m 


CINQ-MARS: 


A   CONSPIRACY  UNDER  LOUIS  XIII. 


ALFRED   DE   VIGNY 


Caujean  inv  ct  sc 


CINQ-MARS: 


OR, 


A  CONSPIRACY  UNDER  Louis  XIII 


BY 


ALFRED     DE    VIGNY. 
(I 


TRANSLATED 

BY  WILLIAM    HAZLITT. 

WITH  DRAWINGS   BY  A.  DAWANT,   ETCHED   BY  GAUJEAN. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 

VOL.  I. 


BOSTON: 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 

1889. 


Copyright,   1889, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 


(Snibttatts 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE. 


CONTENTS  TO   VOL.  I. 


PAGE 

M.  ALFRED  DE  VIGNY v 

THOUGHTS  ON  TRUTH  IN  ART xix 

CHAPTER 

I.     THE  ADIEU       1 

II.     THE  STREET 29 

III.  THE  GOOD  PRIEST 44 

IV.  THE  TRIAL        60 

V.     THE  MARTYRDOM 74 

VI.     THE  DREAM 87 

VII.    THE  CABINET 99 

VIII.     THE  INTERVIEW 128 

IX.    THE  SIEGE    . 145 

X.     THE  REWARD 162 

XL     THE  MISTAKES 178 

XII.     THE  NIGHT-WATCH       192 

XIII.     THE  SPANIARD  213 


NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS 227 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

VOL.  I. 

ALFRED  DE  VIGNY Frontispiece 

CINQ-MARS Page  1 

THE  ADIEU 20 

RICHELIEU  AND  JOSEPH 114 

THE  SIEGE 148 

THE  NIGHT-WATCH  212 


M.   ALFKED    DE   VIGNT. 


Je  crois  fermement  en  une  vocation  ineffable  qui  m'est  donnee,  et 
j'y  crois  k  cause  de  la  pitie  sans  bornes  que  m'inspireut  les  hommes,  mes 
compagnons  en  misere,  et  aussi  a  cause  du  desir  que  je  me  sens  de  leur 
tendre  la  main  et  de  les  clever  sans  cesse  par  des  paroles  de  commise'ra- 
tion  et  d'amour.  —  A.  DE  VIGNY,  Stello,  p.  38. 

BEYOND  the  Champs-Ely  sees,  in  one  of  the  quietest 
streets  of  Paris,  stands  a  house  of  modest  appearance, 
towards  which,  once  a  week,  a  joyous  phalanx  of  literary 
men  and  artists,  young  and  old,  illustrious  and  obscure, 
set  forth  on  a  pilgrimage.  This  house  is  inhabited  by  the 
most  graceful,  the  most  chaste,  the  most  temperate  of  our 
poets.  That  musing  man  with  the  large  forehead,  the 
gentle  voice,  the  noble  and  melancholy  look,  who  lives 
here  buried  in  reflection,  meditation,  and  the  solitude 
"  which  is  holy,"  as  the  Docteur  Noir  says  in  "  Stello,"  is 
the  Comte  Alfred  de  Vigny. 

Of  all  who  have  received  the  gift  of  poesy,  none  has  ever 
consecrated  to  his  muse  a  more  fervid  and  a  purer  worship. 


VI  M.  ALFRED  DE   VIGNY. 

He  has  not  dragged  that  muse  into  the  street  to  "harness 
her,  yelling,  to  the  car  of  faction ; "  he  has  not  mutilated 
her  to  adapt  her  as  food  for  all  the  appetites  of  the  day. 
He  has  not  urged  her  on  to  premature  production,  to  cold 
transports  or  unfruitful  caresses ;  nor  has  he  turned  her 
aside  from  the  things  of  the  present  to  impress  on  her  a 
puerile  and  egoistical  contemplation.  He  has  shown  her 
life,  but  he  has  done  so  from  on  high,  and  without  allowing 
her  white  robe  to  be  sullied  by  it.  He  has  told  her  to  give 
ear  to  the  thousand  sounds  of  the  world,  and  to  reproduce 
them  in  melodious  song ;  and  then,  as  the  voice  of  the  muse 
awakened,  soft  and  sad,  in  the  heart  of  the  poet,  the  song 
of  the  poet  was  sad  also,  but  of  a  softened,  repressed, 
modified  sadness,  like  a  distant  sound,  prolonging  and  re- 
fining itself,  passing  through  a  double  echo. 

He  will  lose  his  way  who  should  seek  to  construct  the 
biography  of  M.  de  Vigny  by  the  aid  of  his  books,  or  ques- 
tion his  life  for  the  secret  of  that  tinge  of  melancholy 
which  is  the  groundwork  and  charm  of  his  inspirations. 
The  faculty  of  suffering  in  others  is  the  privilege  of  lofty 
souls,  and  an  inexhaustible  source  of  poetry.  Sorrow  im- 
agined is  sometimes  more  favorable  to  powerful  description 
than  sorrow  felt.  The  latter  irritates,  exaggerates  itself, 
and  cries  out ;  the  former  listens  intent,  analyzes  itself, 
and  weeps.  In  the  works  of  M.  de  Vigny,  the  religion  of 
self,  common  enough  in  more  than  one  poet  who  sings  him- 
self, or  always  loves  to  personify  himself  in  his  hero,  is  by 
no  means  conspicuous.  We  may  see,  upon  looking  closely, 
that  he  who  has  so  well  appreciated  the  rude  trials  of  the 
poet  and  the  secret  agonies  of  the  soldier,  has  appropriated 
with  passion  sufferings  not  his  own ;  that  whether  in  the 
uniform  or  out  of  it,  he  has  gone  through  life  more  as  a 
spectator  than  as  an  actor,  but  as  an  attentive,  interested, 


M.   ALFRED  DE    VIGNY.  vii 

and  silent  spectator,  glowing  with  charity,  loving  sorrow  as 
others  love  joy,  giving  himself  heart  and  soul  to  its  exami- 
nation, dissecting  it  deliberately,  and,  still  young,  turning, 
as  he  himself  has  said,  all  things  to  future  profit. 

M.  le  Comte  Alfred  de  Vigny  descends  from  an  old  mili- 
tary race,  originally  of  Beauce.  His  father,  a  cavalry 
officer  under  Louis  XV.  and  Louis  XVI.,  married,  in  Tou- 
raine,  the  daughter  of  Admiral  Baraudin ;  and  it  was  in  the 
pretty  little  town  of  Loches  that  on  the  27th  of  March, 
1799,  our  poet  was  born.  His  childhood  was  passed  in  the 
chateau  of  Tronchet  in  Beauce.  While  quite  a  boy  he  was 
grave  and  studious. 

"I  always  loved  to  listen,"  he  said  at  a  later  period  of  his  life; 
"  and  when  I  was  quite  a  child,  I  early  acquired  this  taste  on  the 
wounded  knees  of  my  old  father.  He  first  fed  me  with  the  history 
of  his  campaigns,  and  on  his  lap,  I  found  war  seated  by  my  side  ;  he 
showed  me  war  in  his  wounds,  war  in  the  parchments  and  blazonry 
of  his  fathers,  war  in  their  great  portraits  in  armor,  hung  on  the  walls 
of  the  old  chateau.  I  saw  in  the  nobility  a  great  family  of  hereditary 
soldiers ;  and  I  thought  only  of  rising  to  the  height  of  a  soldier." 

Towards  the  end  of  the  empire  the  young  Alfred  de 
Vigny  was  sent  to  Paris  and  placed  in  the  establishment 
of  M.  Hix.  Here  again  we  shall  let  him  speak  for 
himself :  — 

"  I  was,"  says  he,  "  a  very  absent  student.  War  in  my  eyes  stood 
erect  in  the  lyceum ;  the  drum  in  my  ears  drowned  the  words  of  the 
masters ;  and  the  mysterious  voice  of  books  spoke  to  me  but  a  cold 
and  pedantic  language.  Logarithms  and  tropes  were  in  my  eyes 
merely  steps  to  ascend  to  the  star  of  the  Legion  of  Honor, — the 
finest  star  in  the  heavens  for  boys." 

The  young  scholar  did  not  remain  long  in  his  school ; 
his  family,  alarmed  at  his  ardent  passion  for  war,  at  an 
epoch  when  France  began  to  be  weary  of  it,  confided  him  to 


Vlll  M.   ALFRED  DE    VIGNY. 

the  cares  of  a  private  tutor,  and  endeavored,  but  in  vain, 
to  divert  the  bent  of  his  inclinations ;  it  was  absolutely 
necessary  to  make  him  a  soldier.  Meanwhile  came  the 
Restoration ;  and  scarcely  sixteen  years  of  age,  the  young 
De  Vigny  received  a  commission  in  the  red  household 
musketeers.  Every  one  knows  that  in  the  Hundred  Days, 
the  red  companies  attended  Louis  XVIII.  to  the  frontier ; 
M.  de  Vigny  went  with  them,  and  during  fourteen  years 
service,  destiny  willed  that  this  should  be  his  first  and  only 
campaign.  In  1816  the  red  companies  were  disbanded,  and 
he  passed  into  the  infantry  of  the  guard.  Then  began  the 
disenchantment  of  the  warlike  gentleman ;  he  had  dreamed 
of  the  field  of  battle ;  he  found  the  Champ  de  Mars.  For 
a  camp,  he  had  the  barracks,  and  the  parade  instead  of  a 
battle-field.  As  a  boy,  he  had  seen  himself  entering  van- 
quished towns  as  a  conqueror ;  as  a  soldier,  he  had  to  carry 
an  inoffensive  sabre  from  garrison  to  garrison. 

Not  finding  in  the  trade  of  arms  what  he  sought  there, 
—  war,  —  M.  de  Vigny  turned  towards  poetry,  or  rather,  he 
felt  then  what  he  expressed  at  a  later  period,  that  he  had 
taken  a  youthful  flame  for  an  irresistible  vocation ;  that 
his  first  career  had  been  a  mistake  ;  that  into  an  entirely 
active  life  he  carried  a  wholly  contemplative  nature  ;  that 
he  was  born  a  poet,  and  that  he  was  wrong  in  having  be- 
come a  soldier.  And  yet  he  waited  a  long  time,  not  ventur- 
ing for  honor's  sake  to  quit  the  sword,  fearing  lest  the  day 
of  his  resignation  should  be  the  eve  of  a  campaign.  In 
1823,  he  passed  into  the  line,  hoping  that  it  would  at  last  be 
permitted  him  to  burn  powder  in  Spain.  Fate  denied  him 
this  favor ;  he  was  fain  to  accompany  an  expedition  with 
sheathed  swords,  cantoned  in  the  Pyrenees ;  and  the  only 
trophies  he  brought  back  were  two  of  his  poems,  — 
"  Dolorida  "  and  "  Le  Deluge."  At  last,  two  years  after  his 


M.   ALFRED  DE    VIGNY.  ix 

marriage,  which  took  place  in  1826,  he  determined  upon 
ridding  himself  of  the  prosaic  gorget,  and  forever  to  lay 
aside  his  epaulettes  of  captain  of  infantry,  so  tediously 
and  painfully  acquired. 

During  the  interval,  the  wings  of  his  muse  had  grown ; 
poetry  gained  ground,  and  his  verse  ran  more  freely  from 
the  more  developed  source.  In  the  year  1822,  there  was 
certainly  not  in  the  whole  French  army  an  officer  of  three- 
and-twenty  like  him.  While  all  that  vain,  smoking,  gam- 
bling, fighting  youth  crowded  to  the  taverns  round  the 
billiard-tables,  or  such  places,  the  poet,  altogether  out  of 
his  place,  grave  and  thoughtful,  would  walk  apart  for  a 
portion  of  the  day  with  a  few  old  officers  of  the  empire, 
—  men  of  stooping  backs  and  gray  mustaches,  soldiers  of 
fortune,  sons  of  the  sword,  silent  and  cold  as  Trappists 
before  presumptuous  sub-lieutenants,  stuffed  with  pseudo- 
science,  but  kindly  open  and  conversive  with  this  young 
companion-in-arms,  who  venerated  their  manly  character, 
gave  a  serious  and  eager  attention  to  their  rough  stories, 
beautified  by  truth,  and  loved  them  as  Desdemona  loved 
Othello,  for  the  dangers  they  had  faced.  At  night,  M.  de 
Vigny  would  return  to  his  solitary  room,  open  his  Bible 
or  Homer,  murmur  a  few  fragments  of  Andre  Chenier, 
published  by  M.  de  Chateaubriand  in  the  "  Genie  du  Chris- 
tianisme  ;  "  and  in  proportion  as  the  beloved  night  mounted 
the  heavens,  the  poetic  inspiration  descended  into  his  soul, 
diffused  itself  in  harmonious  waves,  and  he  wrote  his 
poems,  —  strange  poems  for  the  period,  and  which  one 
would  imagine  far  rather  to  have  grown  under  the  gown  of 
some  young,  fervent,  simple,  thoughtful  Benedictine  than 
under  the  shako  of  a  sub-lieutenant.1  Not  that  his  poems 

1  I  have  had  communicated  to  me  a  letter  of  M.  de  Vigny  written 
about  this  period,  or  rather,  two  years  later,  at  the  end  of  1824,  from 


x  M.   ALFRED  DE   VIGNY. 

do  not  partake  of  the  general  movement  which  then  began 
to  draw  men's  minds  into  the  paths  of  idealism  ;  that  they 
may  not,  up  to  a  certain  point,  be  named  in  connection 
with  the  early  inspirations  of  Larnartine  and  Victor  Hugo  ; 
but  there  is  in  them  a  certain  character  of  strangeness  in 
the  form,  something  elaborately  negligent,  a  certain  vague- 
ness which  leaves  the  soul  unsatisfied,  though  gently  moved, 
softly  lulled.  With  the  exception  of  a  few  poems,  such  as 
"  Eloa,"  "  Moise,"  and  "  Helena,"  which  are  complete  and 
finished  creations,  most  of  the  pieces  that  form  the  collec- 
tion of  M.  de  Vigny  have  reference  to  fugitive  thoughts, 
suddenly  caught,  and  immediately  framed  into  a  brief 
drama.  We  feel  that  the  inspiration  was  abundant,  but  that 
the  poet  was  unwilling  to  give  it  all  its  development,  in 
fear  of  its  losing  its  freshness  ;  they  are  so  many  epopees 
in  the  rudimental  state,  —  admirable  sketches,  but  still  only 
sketches. 

Let  us  rapidly  glance  over  them  in  the  order  of  their 
production.  "Symetha,"  which  is  dated  1815  (the  poet 
was  then  sixteen),  is  a  Greek  elegy  in  the  manner  of 
Andre  Chenier.  It  is  a  reminiscence  of  the  blanche  neere. 

"  Neere,  ne  va  pas  te  confier  aux  flots 

De  peur  d'etre  deesse,"  etc, 
said  Chenier. 

Pau,  where  he  was  garrisoned.  At  this  time  he  had  already  published 
some  of  his  poetry.  The  letter  I  speak  of  is  chiefly  upon  political 
matters.  Upon  them  the  young  officer  expresses  very  decided  Royalist 
ideas,  but  it  closes  with  a  few  lines  far  more  valuable  to  me,  inasmuch 
as  they  plainly  show  the  disposition  of  mind  which  I  have  mentioned 
above.  "My  Bible,"  he  here  says,  "and  some  English  prints,  follow 
me  about  like  my  penates,  and  here,  as  everywhere  else,  I  pass  regu- 
larly from  my  sword  to  my  pen.  I  know  nothing  of  Paris,  where,  I  am 
told,  they  have  excommunicated  me,  as  I  predicted  to  yon,  and  yet  I 
work  j  ust  the  same  as  though  I  were  to  be  read  ;  every  one  has  his  illu- 
sions and  his  wants." 


M.    ALFRED  DE    VIGNY.  XI 

"  Je  vais  mourir,  helas  !     Symetha  s'est  fiee 
Aux  flots  profonds ;  1'Attique  est  par  elle  oubliee," 

says  M.  de  Vigny.  There  is  the  same  antique  perfume  in 
the  thought  and  form,  but  it  is  imitation.  M.  de  Vigny  is 
not  yet  himself.  The  same  may  be  said  of  "  La  Dryade," 
of  "  Le  Bain,"  of  "  La  Somnambule,"  and  some  other  pieces 
which  belong  to  this  first  period  of  the  life  of  the  poet. 
"  Moise  "  flows  from  another  source  of  inspirations.  De- 
spite its  biblical  title,  "  Moses  "  is  an  entirely  modern  psycho- 
logical study,  full  of  daring  and  depth.  The  nothingness 
of  power,  the  painful  isolation  of  genius,  walking  sad  and 
solitary  in  his  glory,  which  can  neither  love  nor  be  loved, 
and  which  would  "  sleep  the  sleep  of  the  earth,"  —  such  is 
the  idea  that  M.  de  Vigny  has  developed  in  beautiful  verses. 
In  this  pious  and  precocious  instinct  of  the  secret  sorrows 
of  genius  struggling  with  itself,  awaiting  the  time  when  it 
shall  appear  to  the  poet  struggling  with  the  external  world, 
we  may  already  see  the  dawn  of  "  Stello."  "  La  Fille  de 
Jephte,"  the  grand  and  magnificent  scene  of  "  Le  Deluge," 
"La  Femme  Adultere,"  glitter  with  that  profusion  of  images 
peculiar  to  the  biblical  genius.  The  opening  of  the  last 
piece  reminds  me  of  the  beautiful  verses  of  the  "  Moise  " 
of  M.  de  Chateaubriand.  The  similarity  of  ideas  and  form 
is  so  much  the  more  striking  from  its  being  purely  fortui- 
tous, for  the  "  Moise,"  composed,  I  believe,  at  this  time 
(1819).  did  not  appear  until  much  later.  "Dolorida"  is 
the  most  beautiful  of  all  the  little  dramas  of  two  hundred 
verses,  so  much  loved  by  M.  de  Vigny,  and  which  he  has 
reproduced  in  "  M.  de  Soubise  la  Neige,"  "  Le  Cor,"  and 
some  other  pieces.  Dolorida,  meditated  at  the  foot  of  the 
Pyrenees,  is  a  jealous  Spaniard.  Her  husband  deceives 
her  ;  he  is  at  the  feet  of  another.  She  waits  for  him ;  he 
returns  to  implore  her  pardon  before  dying,  for  he  feels 


Xll  M.  ALFRED  DE    VIGNY. 

himself  consumed   by  an   unknown   flame  that  circulates 
through  his  veins.     She  listens  to  him  patiently,  and  he  — 

"  Oh,  parle  !  mon  cceur  fuit,  quitte  ce  dur  langage. 
Qu'uu  regard  —  Mais  quel  est  ce  blauchatre  breuvage, 
Que  tu  bois  a  longs  traits  et  d'un  air  iusense'  ? 
—  Le  reste  du  poisoii  qu'hier  je  t'ai  verse." 

With  this  matter  others  would  have  composed  a  thick 
book.  M.  de  Vigny  has  painted  a  delicious  miniature, 
somewhat  incomplete  perhaps,  for  the  transitions  are  ab- 
rupt, but  still  full  of  life  and  action,  pure,  harmonious, 
irreproachable  as  to  form,  with  the  exception  of  two  para- 
phrases which  appear  to  me  somewhat  far-fetched,  —  one 
implying  chemise  and  the  other  pendule. 

I  now  come  to  "  Eloa,"  —  M.  de  Vigny's  poetical  chef- 
d'&uvre,  which  dates  from  the  same  year,  1823,  and  which 
was  composed  in  the  Vosges.  "  Eloa  "  has  often  been  com- 
pared with  the  "  Messiah "  of  Klopstock.  I  could  never 
myself  understand  what  connection  there  could  be  between 
an  immense  poem,  brilliant  in  parts,  but  unequal,  devoid  of 
unity  and  ensemble,  —  sometimes  spun  out  in  incomprehen- 
sible pathos  and  lost  in  endless  prolixities,  —  like  that  of 
Klopstock,  and  a  poem  of  which  it  is  not  the  least  merit 
that  it  forms  a  whole,  admirably  finished  in  its  minuteness, 
modelled  with  exquisite  art  from  the  first  verse  to  the  last, 
uniformly  clear  and  harmonious  in  form,  uniformly  logical 
in  the  deduction  of  its  ideas,  and  so  happily  compounded  of 
grace,  splendor,  warmth,  and  passion.  Fiissly  said,  and  not 
without  reason,  of  the  "  Messiah  "  that  the  first  ten  cantos 
are  the  song  of  a  swan,  and  the  last  ten  the  croaking  of  a 
raven.  From  beginning  to  end  "  Eloa "  is  the  song  of  a 
swan.  The  grand  rock  upon  which  poetry  that  is  princi- 
pally founded  upon  intuitive  speculation  strikes  is  obscur- 
ity, —  a  rock  which  the  great  Milton  himself  has  not 


M.   ALFRED  DE    VIGNY.  xiii 

steered  clear  of,  and  which  appears  more  especially  in  the 
descriptive  portion  of  such  poems.  It  is,  in  fact,  difficult 
to  paint  with  perspicuity  what  is  only  seen  with  the  eyes 
of  the  mind.  All  ecstatic  visions,  beginning  with  the 
Apocalypse,  - —  the  sublime  of  that  class  of  composition,  — 
present  an  eternal  confusion,  resulting  from  the  mixture  of 
terrestrial  reality  and  seraphic  ideality.  Man  is  a  fallen 
angel  whose  "  thoughts  are  turned  back  to  heaven,"  says  a 
poet.  True,  but  they  are  turned  only  vaguely,  as  men  turn 
towards  their  early  childhood;  and  when  he  speaks  of  it, 
and  more  especially  when  he  describes  it  in  writing,  his 
language  is  often  confused,  illogical,  incoherent,  velut  cegri 
somnia.  M.  de  Vigny,  having  to  speak  of  heaven,  has 
availed  himself  greatly  of  earth,  and  he  has  done  well.  I 
know  no  one  who  has  a  right  to  determine  in  what  consists 
the  local  coloring  in  the  description  of  paradise.  M.  de 
Vigny  has  very  lightly  passed  over  the  description  of  the 
abode  of  God  and  the  angels,  and  here  again  he  has  done 
well.  On  the  other  hand,  he  has  dwelt  on  the  dramatic 
portion  of  his  work.  In  being  ideal,  he  has  not  entirely 
ceased  to  be  human.  His  Eloa  is  a  woman,  though  a  dei- 
fied woman.  By  this  means  M.  de  Vigny  has  succeeded  in 
composing  a  religious  poem  which  embraces,  with  beauties 
of  the  highest  order,  all  the  interest  of  a  simple  and  touch- 
ing romance.  I  would  fain  quote  some  passages  of  it  for 
those  who  by  chance  may  not  have  read  it,  but  it  would  be 
useless  to  quote  less  than  all.  I  shall  content  myself  with 
analyzing  the  leading  idea  of  the  poem,  which  in  the  most 
eminent  degree  presents  that  character  of  delicacy  and 
spiritual  fervor  peculiar  to  M.  de  Vigny. 

Lazarus  is  just  dead.  Jesus  is  affected  at  the  sight  of 
the  corpse.  He  is  about  to  restore  to  life,  and  drops  a  tear. 
This  divine  tear  is  caught  up  by  the  seraphim.  They  en- 


Xiv  M.   ALFRED  DE    VIGNY. 

close  it  in  a  diamond  urn  and  carry  it  to  the  foot  of  the 
Eternal,  who  fecundates  it  with  a  glance. 

"  On  vit  alors,  du  sein  de  Turne  eblouissante, 
S'elever  une  forme  et  blanche  et  grandissante." 

This  is  Eloa.  The  virgin  is  so  beautiful  that  all  the  in- 
habitants of  heaven  press  round  to  admire  her.  Born  from 
a  tear  of  pity,  Eloa  will  live  only  to  console  and  bless. 
She  will  be  the  guardian  angel  of  angels.  On  a  certain  day 
her  companions  relate  to  her  the  history  of  Lucifer,  —  the 
rebel  banished  from  heaven  and  hurled  to  the  lowest  gulf 
of  the  abyss,  where  he  is  alone,  where  he  groans,  and  where 
no  one  loves  him. 

"  Et  Ton  crut  qu'Eloa  le  maudirait ;  mais  non, 
L'Effroi  n'altera  point  sou  paisible  visage." 

A  tear  only  glittered  on  her  eyelid.  This  was  a  tear  of 
pity,  and  already  almost  a  tear  of  love.  Pensive  and  sad 
at  the  thought  that  there  existed  a  sorrow  which  she  could 
not  control,  the  virgin-archangel  opened  her  golden  wings, 
flew  apart  towards  unknown  spheres,  and  there  hovering 
thoughtfully  over  the  abyss,  saw  at  a  distance  a  pale  and 
beautiful  youth  lying  voluptuously  on  a  bed  of  vapor.  A 
sweet,  sad  voice  reached  her,  — 

"  D'oii  viens-tu,  belle  archange  ?  ou  vas-tu  ?  "  etc. 

Nothing  can  equal  the  grace  with  which  the  poet  has 
described  this  scene  of  seduction.  The  insinuating  deceit 
of  Lucifer ;  the  chaste  alarm  of  the  virgin,  who  at  first  flees 
away,  like  a  surprised  bather,  mounts  recoiling  in  her 
starry  path,  and  closes  her  golden  eyelids  to  avoid  the  im- 
pure glance  that  fascinates  her ;  the  voice  of  the  tempter 
pursues  her,  more  and  more  affecting,  suppliant,  broken  by 
sobs ;  pity  struggling  in  the  heart  of  Eloa  with  modesty 


M.   ALFRED  DE    VIGNY.  XV 

and  fear ;  the  feigned  remorse  and  ardent  prayer  of  the 
one,  the  hesitation  and  anguish  of  the  other,  moved  by  that 
feigned  sorrow,  and  who  would  fain  console  its  despair,  yet 
trembles  in  face  of  the  danger  her  timid  innocence  fore- 
sees, descends,  reascends,  hovers  at  a  distance,  blushes, 
hesitates,  and  weeps,  —  all  these  delicate  shades  are  admi- 
rably touched.  Similitudes  and  images  abound  ;  the  whole 
poem  seems  a  shower  of  diamonds.  At  last,  Modesty  is 
conquered  by  Pity. 

"  —  Descends  jusqu'k  moi,  car  je  ne  puis  monter," 
cries  the  perfidious  voice. 

"  Je  1'aime  et  je  descends ;  mais  que  diront  les  cieux  ? 

murmurs  Eloa,  falling  into  the  arms  of  the  seducer;  and 
then  the  voice  rises  triumphant,  cruel,  infernal,  — 

"  J'enleve  mon  esclave  et  je  tiens  ma  victime. 

—  Tu  paraissais  si  bon  !  oh  !  qu'ai-je  fait  ?  —  Un  crime," 

answers  the  pitiless  voice. 

"  Seras-tu  plus  heureux  du  moins  ;  es-tu  content  ? 

—  Plus  triste  que  jamais.  —  Qui  done  es-tu  ?  —  Satan." 

The  last  verse  but  one  is  sublime.  Those  simple  words 
of  Eloa,  almost  consoling  herself  in  her  own  destruction 
with  the  hope  that  she  may  mitigate  the  suffering  of 
another,  is  a  perfect  personification  of  woman  in  that 
which  in  her  is  most  ethereal,  most  divine,  —  self-denial 
and  devotion.  I  have  never  read  this  verse  without  sub- 
siding into  revery.  It  seems  to  me  that  he  who  created  it 
must  have  been  something  more  than  poet,  however  great 
a  poet.  It  is  one  of  those  lines  which  at  once  fix  them- 
selves on  the  memory,  but  which  nothing  but  the  memory 
can  supply  us  with. 


xvi  M.  ALFRED  DE    VIGNY. 

A  critic,  as  elegant  in  his  language  as  he  is  sound  in  his 
judgment,  whom  it  is  dangerous  to  read  when  one  desires 
as  a  writer  to  remain  at  all  one's  self,  and  whom  I  have  per- 
haps read  too  attentively  for  the  present  notice  to  be  alto- 
gether my  own  in  its  ground-work,  —  M.  Sainte-Beuve,  — 
in  speaking  of  the  curious  process  of  crystallization  to  which 
M.  de  Vigny  subjects  his  thought,  points  out  the  terrestrial 
features  of  the  admirable  poem  of  "Eloa."  I  have  myself 
observed  that  this  faculty  of  idealizing  the  real  without 
destroying  the  reality  is  the  finest  characteristic  of  M.  de 
Vigny's  poetry.  In  his  verses,  as  in  his  romances,  lie  is  at 
times  extremely  minute,  perhaps  in  a  degree  affected,  but 
always  elevated  and  always  intelligible.  In  description, 
more  especially,  he  is  admirable  for  fertility,  perspicuity, 
and  truth.  Head  "Eloa,"  "  Stello,"  or  "  Laurette."  In 
well-nigh  every  page  you  will  meet  with  a  little  picture, 
full  of  grace  in  the  disposition  of  the  figures  and  of  charm 
in  the  contours.  If  I  were  a  painter  like  Scheffer,  I  would 
learn  the  writings  of  M.  de  Vigny  by  heart,  and  so  provide 
myself  with  an  ample  store  of  charming  subjects  for  years 
and  years  to  come. 

As  a  poet,  we  conceive  that  the  author  of  "  Eloa  "  stands 
in  the  very  first  rank  among  us.  How  is  it,  then,  that 
under  this  head,  the  common  run  of  people  place  him 
rather  in  the  second  rank  ?  For  there  is  no  denying  that 
his  poems  are  far  from  enjoying  equal  popularity  with 
those  of  Victor  Hugo  or  Lamartine.  Perhaps,  indeed,  it 
was  this  comparative  want  of  success  in  the  outset  that 
chiefly  served  to  direct  to  prose  an  intellectual  organization 
eminently  rhythmical,  if  I  may  so  express  myself.  The 
public  indifference  with  respect  to  the  poems  of  M.  de 
Vigny  arises  from  several  causes,  which  it  is  needless  here 
to  develop,  and  of  which  I  will  refer  only  to  the  principal. 


M.   ALFRED  DE    VIGNY.  xvil 

In  1824,  the  period  when  most  of  M.  de  Vigny's  poems 
were  published,  the  spiritualist  and  morbidly  pensive  ten- 
dency had  very  decidedly  manifested  itself.  Byron  in 
England,  and  then  Lamartine,  had  created  and  encouraged 
the  movement ;  but  this  tendency  was  altogether  full  of 
individuality.  Poetry  was  converted  into  a  personal  his- 
tory, —  men  describing  themselves  either  directly,  as  did  the 
author  of  the  "  Meditations,"  or  indirectly,  like  the  author 
of  "Childe  Harold."  And  it  was  just  at  the  moment,  when 
the  public  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  this  analytical  lyrism, 
this  poetical  psychology,  that  M.  de  Vigny  offered  to  it 
verses  whose  strange  and  novel  form  partook  of  no  other 
poet's  style,  except  perhaps  —  and  that  only  here  and  there 
—  of  Chenier's ;  and  the  groundwork  of  which,  though  it 
was  allied  to  the  epoch  in  its  idealism,  was  visibly  removed 
from  it  by  a  very  decided  impress  of  generalization,  by  a 
turn  of  thought,  human,  not  individual.  The  poemes  an- 
tiques, bibliques,  and  modernes  of  the  young  officer  were  ac- 
cordingly little  appreciated  out  of  a  few  select  circles  in 
Paris,  which  he  frequented  very  assiduously  while  in  the 
household  troops,  and  which  he  visited  from  time  to  time 
only  when  he  had  passed  into  the  line.  Even  now,  whether 
it  be  that  the  prose-writer  has  made  the  world  forget  the 
poet,  or  whether  it  arises  from  the  general  indifference  to 
poetry  altogether,  the  first  coolness  of  the  public  with  ref- 
erence to  M.  de  Vigny's  verses  still  subsists ;  and  that  is 
precisely  the  reason  why  I  have  dwelt  the  more  upon  them. 
For  I  repeat  that  of  all  our  age  has  produced  fine  in  poetry, 
I  know  nothing  finer  than  "Eloa." 

"Cinq-Mars,"  commenced  at  the  foot  of  the  Pyrenees, 
continued  from  garrison  to  garrison,  completed  by  means 
of  frequent  journeys  to  Paris  and  long  studies  at  the 
Bibliotheque  Royale,  was  published  in  1826.  Its  success 


xvin  Af.    ALFRED  DE    VIGNY. 

was  as  great  as  it  was  legitimate.  Before  1829,  the  work 
had  already  gone  through  four  editions.  There  is  no  occa- 
sion to  analyze  a  book  which  all  have  judged  for  them- 
selves. There  is  no  person  of  any  reading  who  has  not 
present  in  his  memory  the  charming  creation  of  Marie  de 
Gonzaga,  the  touching  episode  of  Urbain  Grandier,  the  tall 
and  'noble  figure  of  De  Thou,  the  slight  but  genuine  sketch 
of  Anne  of  Austria,  the  portrait,  somewhat  exaggerated, 
but  really  fine,  of  Cinq-Mars,  the  mournful  and  feeble  vis- 
age of  Louis  XIII.  The  delineation  of  Kichelieu,  I  must 
confess,  I  don't  so  much  like,  because  I  think  it  scarcely 
just.  M.  de  Vigny  seems  to  have  regarded  the  cardinal- 
generalissimo  too  much  with  the  eyes  of  Bassompierre. 

In  1828,  M.  de  Vigny  translated  Shakspeare's  "  Othello," 
which  was  performed  at  the  Theatre  Fra^ais,  on  the  25th 
of  October,  1829,  with  no  great  success.  The  "  Marechal 
d'Ancre,"  played  in  1830,  also  met  with  limited  honors. 
In  1832,  M.  de  Vigny  published  "Stello,"  an  episode  of 
which  —  "  Chatterton  "  —  was  prepared  for  the  stage,  and 
produced  at  the  Theatre  Fran9ais  on  the  llth  of  February, 
1835.  M.  de  Vigny  has  since  published  "Servitude  et 
Grandeur  Militaires,"  —  three  charming  tales,  —  and  "  Le 
Sauvage,"  "La  Mort  du  Loup,"  and  "La  Flute." 

M.  de  Vigny  was  elected  a  member  of  the  academy  in 
1846.1 

1  He  died  at  Paris,  Sept.  17,  1863. 


THOUGHTS  ON  TRUTH  IN  ART. 


THE  study  of  social  progress  is  to-day  not  less  needed  in 
literature  than  is  the  analysis  of  the  human  heart.  We 
live  in  an  age  of  universal  investigation,  and  of  exploration 
of  'the  sources  of  all  movements.  France,  above  all,  loves 
at  the  same  time  history  and  the  drama,  because  the  one 
explores  the  vast  destinies  of  humanity,  the  other  the 
individual  lot  of  man.  These  embrace  the  whole  of  life. 
But  it  is  the  province  of  religion,  of  philosophy,  of  pure 
poetry  only,  to  go  beyond  life,  beyond  time,  into  eternity. 

Of  late  years  (and  it  is  perhaps  a  result  of  our  political 
changes),  art  has  borrowed  from  history  more  than  ever. 
All  of  us  have  our  eyes  fixed  on  our  chronicles,  as  though, 
having  reached  manhood  while  going  on  towards  greater 
things,  we  had  stopped  a  moment  to  cast  up  the  account  of 
our  youth  and  its  errors.  We  have  had  to  double  interest 
by  adding  to  it  recollection. 

As  France  has  carried  farther  than  other  nations  this 
love  of  facts,  and  as  I  had  chosen  a  recent  and  well-remem- 
bered epoch,  I  thought  that  I  ought  not  to  imitate  the 
foreigners  who  in  their  pictures  barely  show  in  the  horizon 


xx  THOUGHTS  ON  TRUTH  IN  ART. 

the  men  who  dominate  their  history.  I  placed  ours  in  the 
foreground  of  the  scene;  I  made  them  the  leading  actors 
in  this  tragedy,  in  which  I  endeavored  to  represent  the 
three  kinds  of  ambition  by  which  we  are  influenced,  and 
with  them  the  beauty  of  self-sacrifice  to  a  noble  ideal.  A 
treatise  on  the  fall  of  the  feudal  system,  on  the  position, 
at  home  and  abroad,  of  France  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
on  foreign  alliances,  on  the  justice  of  parliaments  or  of 
secret  commissions,  and  on  accusations  of  sorcery,  would 
not  perhaps  have  been  read.  The  romance  was  read. 

I  do  not  mean  to  defend  this  last  form  of  historical  com- 
position, being  convinced  that  the  real  greatness  of  a  work 
lies  in  the  substance  of  the  author's  ideas  and  sentiments, 
and  not  in  the  literary  form  in  which  they  are  dressed. 
The  choice  of  a  certain  epoch  will  necessitate  a  certain 
treatment,  —  to  another  epoch  it  would  be  unsuitable ; 
these  are  mere  secrets  of  the  workshop  of  thought  which 
there  is  no  need  of  disclosing.  What  is  the  use  of  theo- 
rizing as  to  wherein  lies  the  charm  that  moves  us  ?  We 
hear  the  tones  of  the  harp,  but  its  graceful  form  con 
ceals  from  us  its  springs  of  iron.  Nevertheless,  since  I 
have  been  convinced  that  this  book  has  in  it  some  vitality, 
I  cannot  help  throwing  out  these  reflections  on  the  liberty 
which  the  imagination  should  employ  in  weaving  into  its 
woof  all  the  leading  figures  of  an  age,  and  in  order  to  give 
more  consistency  to  their  acts,  in  making  the  reality  of  fact 
give  way  to  the  idea  which  each  of  them  should  represent 
in  the  eyes  of  posterity ;  in  short,  on  the  difference  which 
I  find  between  the  Truth  of  art  and  the  True  in  fact. 

Just  as  we  descend  into  our  consciences  to  judge  of 
actions  which  our  minds  cannot  weigh,  can  we  not  also 
search  in  ourselves  for  the  feeling  which  gives  birth  to 
forms  of  thought,  always  vague  and  cloudy  ?  We  shall 


THOUGHTS  ON  TRUTH  IN  ART.  xxi 

find  in  our  troubled  heart,  where  discord  reigns,  two  needs 
which  seem  to  be  at  variance,  but  which  mingle,  as  I  think, 
in  a  common  source ;  the  one  is  love  of  the  true,  the  other 
love  of  the  fabulous. 

On  the  day  when  man  told  the  story  of  his  life  to  man, 
history  was  born.  But  of  what  use  is  the  memory  of 
facts,  if  not  to  serve  as  an  example  of  good  or  of  evil  ?  But 
the  examples  which  the  slow  train  of  events  presents  to  us 
are  scattered  and  incomplete.  They  lack  always  a  tangible 
and  visible  coherence  leading  straight  on  to  a  moral  con- 
clusion. The  acts  of  the  human  race  on  the  world's  stage 
have  doubtless  a  coherent  unity,  but  the  meaning  of  this 
vast  tragedy  which  it  enacts  there  will  be  visible  only  to 
the  eye  of  God,  until  the  end,  which  will  reveal  it  perhaps 
to  the  last  man.  All  systems  of  philosophy  have  sought 
in  vain  to  explain  it,  ceaselessly  rolling  their  rock,  which, 
never  reaching  the  top,  falls  back  upon  them,  —  each  raising 
its  frail  structure  on  the  ruins  of  the  others,  only  to  see  it 
fall  in  its  turn. 

I  believe,  then,  that  man,  after  having  satisfied  his  first 
longing  for  facts,  wanted  something  fuller,  some  grouping, 
some  adaptation  to  his  capacity  and  his  experience,  of  the 
links  of  this  vast  chain  of  events  which  his  sight  could  not 
take  in  ;  for  thus  he  hoped  to  find  in  the  historic  recital 
examples  which  might  support  the  moral  truths  of  which 
he  was  conscious.  Few  single  careers  could  satisfy  this 
longing,  being  only  incomplete  parts  of  the  elusive  whole 
of  the  history  of  the  world ;  one  was  a  quarter,  as  it  were, 
the  other  a  half  of  the  proof ;  imagination  did  the  rest  and 
completed  them.  From  this,  without  doubt,  sprang  the 
fable.  Man  created  it  true,  because  it  was  not  given  him 
to  see  more  than  himself  end  nature,  which  surrounds  him  : 
but  he  created  it  true  with  a  truth  all  its  own. 


XXll  THOUGHTS  ON  TRUTH  IN  ART. 

This  Truth,  so  beautiful,  so  intellectual,  which  I  feel, 
which  I  see,  and  long  to  define,  the  name  of  which  I  here 
venture  to  distinguish  from  that  of  the  True,  that  I  may 
the  better  make  myself  understood,  is  the  soul  of  all  the 
arts.  It  is  the  selection  of  the  characteristic  token  in  all 
the  beauties  and  the  grandeurs  of  the  visible  True ;  but  it 
is  not  the  thing  itself,  it  is  something  better  :  it  is  an  ideal 
combination  of  its  principal  forms,  a  luminous  tint  made 
up  of  its  brightest  colors,  an  intoxicating  balm  of  its  purest 
perfumes,  a  delicious  elixir  of  its  best  juices,  a  perfect  har- 
mony of  its  sweetest  sounds,  —  in  short,  it  is  a  concentra- 
tion of  all  its  good  qualities.  For  this  Truth,  and  nothing 
else,  should  strive  those  works  of  art  which  are  a  moral 
representation  of  life,  —  dramatic  works.  To  attain  it,  the 
first  step  is  undoubtedly  to  learn  all  that  is  true  in  fact  of 
every  period,  to  become  deeply  imbued  with  its  general 
character  and  with  its  details ;  this  involves  only  a  cheap 
tribute  of  attention,  of  patience,  and  of  memory.  But  then 
one  must  fix  upon  some  chosen  centre,  and  group  every- 
thing around  it;  this  is  the  work  of  imagination,  and  of 
that  sublime  common-sense  which  is  genius  itself. 

Of  what  use  were  the  arts  if  they  were  only  the  reproduc- 
tion and  the  imitation  of  life  ?  Good  heavens  !  we  see  only 
too  clearly  about  us  the  sad  and  disenchanting  reality, —  the 
insupportable  lukewarmness  of  feeble  characters,  of  shallow 
virtues  and  vices,  of  irresolute  loves,  of  tempered  hates,  of 
wavering  friendships,  of  unsettled  beliefs,  of  constancy 
which  has  its  height  and  its  depth,  of  opinions  which 
evaporate.  Let  us  dream  that  once  upon  a  time  have  lived 
men  stronger  and  greater,  who  were  more  determined  for 
good  or  for  evil ;  that  does  us  good.  If  the  paleness  of 
your  True  is  to  follow  us  into  art,  we  shall  close  at  once 
the  theatre  and  the  book,  to  avoid  meeting  it  a  second  time. 


THOUGHTS  ON  TRUTH  IN  ART.  xxiii 

What  is  wanted  of  works  which  revive  the  ghosts  of  hu- 
man beings  is,  I  repeat,  the  philosophical  spectacle  of  man 
deeply  wrought  upon  by  the  passions  of  his  character  and 
of  his  epoch ;  it  is,  in  short,  the  artistic  Truth  of  that  man 
and  that  epoch,  but  both  raised  to  a  higher  and  ideal 
power  which  concentrates  all  their  forces.  You  recognize 
this  Truth  in  works  of  the  imagination  just  as  you  cry  out 
at  the  resemblance  of  a  portrait  of  which  you  have  never 
seen  the  original;  for  true  talent  paints  life  rather  than 
the  living. 

To  banish  finally  the  scruples  on  this  point  of  the 
consciences  of  some  persons,  timorous  in  literary  matters, 
whom  I  have  seen  affected  with  a  personal  sorrow  on 
viewing  the  rashness  with  which  the  imagination  sports 
with  the  most  weighty  characters  of  history,  I  will  hazard 
the  assertion  that,  not  throughout  this  work,  I  dare  not 
say  that,  but  in  many  of  these  pages,  and  those  perhaps 
not  of  the  least  merit,  history  is  a  romance  of  which  the 
people  is  the  author.  The  human  mind,  I  believe,  cares 
for  the  True  only  in  the  general  character  of  an  epoch. 
What  it  values  most  of  all  is  the  sum-total  of  events  and 
the  advance  of  civilization,  which  carries  individuals  along 
with  it ;  but,  indifferent  to  details,  it  cares  less  to  have 
them  real  than  noble,  or  rather,  grand  and  complete. 

Examine  closely  the  origin  of  certain  deeds,  of  certain 
heroic  expressions,  which  are  born  one  knows  not  how ; 
you  will  see  them  leap  out  ready-made  from  hearsay  and 
the  murmurs  of  the  crowd,  without  having  in  themselves 
more  than  a  shadow  of  truth,  and,  nevertheless,  they  will 
remain  historical  forever.  As  if  by  way  of  pleasantry,  and 
to  put  a  joke  upon  posterity,  the  public  voice  invents  sub- 
lime utterances  to  lend,  during  their  lives  and  under  their 
very  eyes,  to  men  who,  confused,  disclaim  them  as  best 


xxiv  THOUGHTS  ON  TRUTH  IN  ART. 

they  may,  as  not  deserving  so  much  glory  *  and  as  not  being 
able  to  support  so  high  renown.  In  vain ;  their  disclaimers 
are  not  received.  Let  them  cry  out,  let  them  write,  let 
them  print,  let  them  sign,  —  they  are  not  listened  to. 
Their  utterances  are  inscribed  in  bronze  ;  the  poor  fellows 
remain  historical  and  sublime  in  spite  of  themselves.  And 
I  do  not  find  that  all  this  is  done  in  the  ages  of  barbarism 
alone  ;  it  is  still  going  on,  and  it  moulds  the  history  of  yes- 
terday to  the  taste  of  public  opinion,  —  a  Muse  tyrannical 
and  capricious,  which  preserves  the  general  purport  and 
scorns  detail.  Which  of  you  has  not  been  present  at  its 
transformation  ?  Do  you  not  see  with  your  own  eyes  the 
chrysalis  fact  assume  by  degrees  the  wings  of  fiction  ? 
Half  formed  by  the  necessities  of  the  time,  a  fact  is  hidden 
in  the  ground,  obscure  and  incomplete,  rough,  sometimes 
badly  constructed,  like  a  block  of  marble  not  yet  rough- 
hewn.  The  first  who  unearth  it,  and  take  it  in  hand,  would 
wish  it  differently  shaped,  and  pass  it,  already  a  little 
rounded,  into  other  hands ;  others  polish  it  as  they  pass  it 
along ;  in  a  short  time  it  is  exhibited  transformed  into  an 
immortal  statue.  We  disclaim  it;  witnesses  who  have 
seen  and  heard  pile  refutations  upon  explanations ;  the 

1  In  our  time  has  not  a  Russian  general  denied  the  fire  of  Moscow, 
which  we  have  made  heroic,  and  which  will  remain  so  ?  Has  not  a 
French  general  denied  the  utterance  on  the  field  of  Waterloo  which  will 
immortalize  it  ?  And  if  I  were  not  withheld  by  my  respect  for  a  sacred 
event,  I  might  recall  that  a  priest  has  felt  it  to  be  his  duty  to  disavow  in 
public  a  sublime  speech  which  will  remain  the  noblest  that  has  ever  been 
pronounced  on  a  scaffold  :  "  Son  of  Saint  Louis,  rise  to  heaven  !  "  When 
I  learned  not  long  ago  its  real  author,  I  was  overcome  by  the  destruction 
of  my  illusion,  but  before  long  I  was  consoled  by  a  thought  that  does 
honor  to  humanity  in  my  eyes.  I  feel  that  France  has  consecrated  this 
speech,  because  she  felt  the  need  of  re-establishing  herself  in  her  own 
eyes,  of  blinding  herself  to  her  awful  error,  and  of  believing  that  then 
and  there  an  honest  man  was  found  who  dared  to  speak  aloud. 


THOUGHTS  ON  TRUTH  IN  ART.  XX  v 

learned  investigate,  pore  over  books,  and  write.  No  one 
listens  to  them  any  more  than  to  the  humble  heroes  who 
disown  it ;  the  torrent  rolls  on  and  bears  with  it  the  whole 
thing  under  the  form  which  it  has  pleased  it  to  give  to 
these  individual  actions.  What  was  needed  for  all  this 
work  ?  A  nothing,  a  word ;  sometimes  the  caprice  of  a 
journalist  out  of  work.  And  are  we  the  losers  by  it  ?  No. 
The  adopted  fact  is  always  better  composed  than  the  real 
one,  and  it  is  even  adopted  only  because  it  is  better.  The 
human  race  feels  a  need  that  its  destinies  should  afford  it 
a  series  of  lessons  ;  more  careless  than  we  think  of  the 
reality  of  facts,  it  strives  to  perfect  the  event  in  order  to 
give  it  a  great  moral  significance,  feeling  sure  that  the 
succession  of  scenes  which  it  plays  upon  earth  is  not  a 
comedy,  and  that  since  it  advances,  it  marches  towards  an 
end,  of  which  the  explanation  must  be  sought  beyond  what 
is  visible. 

For  my  part,  I  acknowledge  my  gratitude  to  the  voice 
of  the  people  for  this  achievement ;  for  often  in  the  finest 
life  are  found  strange  blemishes  and  inconsistencies  which 
pain  me  when  I  see  them.  If  a  man  seems  to  me  a  perfect 
model  of  a  grand  and  noble  character,  and  if  some  one 
comes  and  tells  me  of  a  mean  trait  which  disfigures  him,  I 
am  saddened  by  it,  even  though  I  do  not  know  him,  as  by  a 
misfortune  which  affects  me  in  person ;  and  I  could  almost 
wish  that  he  had  died  before  the  change  in  his  character. 

Thus,  when  the  Muse  (and  I  give  that  name  to  art  as  a 
whole,  to  everything  which  belongs  to  the  domain  of 
imagination,  almost  in  the  same  way  as  the  ancients  gave 
the  name  of  Music  to  all  education),  when  the  Muse  has 
related,  in  her  impassioned  manner,  the  adventures  of  a 
character  whom  I  know  to  have  lived ;  and  when  she  re- 
shapes his  experiences  into  conformity  with  the  strongest 


xxvi  THOUGHTS  ON  TRUTH  IN  ART. 

idea  of  vice  or  virtue  which  can  be  conceived  of  him,  — 
filling  the  gaps,  veiling  the  incongruities  of  his  life,  and 
giving  him  that  perfect  unity  of  conduct  which  we  like  to 
see  represented  even  in  evil,  —  if  in  addition  to  this,  she 
preserves  the  only  thing  essential  to  the  instruction  of  the 
world,  the  spirit  of  the  epoch,  I  know  no  reason  why  we 
should  be  more  exacting  with  her  than  with  this  voice  of 
the  people  which  every  day  makes  every  fact  undergo  so 
great  changes. 

The  ancients  carried  this  liberty  even  into  history ;  they 
wanted  to  see  in  it  only  the  general  march,  and  broad 
movements  of  peoples  and  nations ;  and  on  these  great 
movements,  brought  to  view  in  courses  very  distinct  and 
very  clear,  they  placed  a  few  colossal  figures,  —  symbols 
of  noble  character  and  of  lofty  purpose. 

One  might  almost  reckon  mathematically  that,  having 
undergone  the  double  composition  of  public  opinion  and 
of  the  author,  their  history  reaches  us  at  third  hand  and 
separated  by  two  stages  from  the  truth  of  fact. 

It  is  because  in  their  eyes  history  too  was  a  work  of  art; 
and  in  consequence  of  not  having  realized  that  such  is  its 
real  nature,  the  whole  Christian  world  still  lacks  an  his- 
torical monument  like  those  which  dominate  antiquity  and 
consecrate  the  memory  of  its  destinies,  —  as  its  pyramids, 
its  obelisks,  its  pylones,  and  its  porticos  still  dominate  the 
earth  which  was  known  to  them,  and  thereby  commemorate 
the  grandeur  of  antiquity. 

If,  then,  we  find  everywhere  evidence  of  this  inclination 
to  desert  the  positive,  to  bring  the  ideal  even  into  historic 
annals,  I  believe  that  with  greater  reason  we  should  be 
completely  indifferent  to  historical  reality  in  judging  the 
dramatic"  works,  whether  poems,  romances,  or  tragedies, 
which  borrow  from  history  celebrated  characters.  Art 


THOUGHTS  ON  TRUTH  IN  ART.          xxvii 

ought  never  to  be  considered  except  in  its  relations  with  its 
ideal  beauty.  Let  it  be  said  that  what  is  true  in  fact  is 
secondary  merely;  it  is  only  an  illusion  the  more  with 
which  it  adorns  itself,  —  one  of  our  prejudices  which  it 
respects.  It  can  do  without  it,  for  the  Truth  by  which  it 
must  live  is  the  truth  of  observation  of  human  nature,  and 
not  authenticity  of  fact.  The  names  of  the  characters 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  matter.  The  idea  is  every- 
thing ;  the  proper  name  is  only  the  example  and  the  proof 
of  the  idea. 

So  much  the  better  for  the  memory  of  those  who  are 
chosen  to  represent  philosophical  or  moral  ideas  ;  but,  once 
again,  that  is  not  the  question.  The  imagination  can  pro- 
duce just  as  fine  things  without  them ;  it  is  a  power  wholly 
creative ;  the  imaginary  beings  which  it  animates  are  en- 
dowed with  life  as  truly  as  the  real  beings  which  it  brings 
to  life  again.  We  believe  in  Othello  as  we  do  in  Richard 
III.,  whose  tomb  is  in  Westminster;  in  Lovelace  and  in 
Clarissa  as  in  Paul  and  in  Virginia,  whose  tombs  are  in  the 
Isle  of  France.  It  is  with  the  same  eye  that  we  must 
watch  the  performance  of  its  characters,  and  demand  of 
the  Muse  only  her  artistic  Truth,  more  lofty  than  the  True, 
—  whether  collecting  the  traits  of  a  character  dispersed 
among  a  thousand  entire  individuals,  she  composes  from 
them  a  type  whose  name  alone  is  imaginary;  or  whether 
she  goes  to  their  tomb  to  seek  and  to  touch  with  her  gal- 
vanic current  the  dead  whose  great  deeds  are  known,  forces 
them  to  arise  again,  and  drags  them  dazzled  to  the  light  of 
day,  where  in  the  circle  which  this  fairy  has  traced,  they 
retake  unwillingly  their  passions  of  other  days,  and  begin 
again  in  the  sight  of  their  descendants  the  sad  drama  of 
life. 


CINQ-MAES. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    ADIEU. 

Fare  thee  well !  and  if  forever, 
Still,  forever,  fare  thee  well ! 

LORD  BYRON. 

IP  in  the  months  of  summer  you  have  traversed  fair 
Touraine,  you  have  no  doubt  followed  with  enchantment 
the  tranquil  Loire  ;  you  have  regretted  the  impossibility 
of  determining  upon  which  of  its  banks  you  would  choose 
to  dwell  in  the  society  of  a  beloved  being.  Upon  the 
right  bank,  valleys  peopled  with  charming  white  houses 
surrounded  with  woods,  hills  yellow  with  vines  or  white 
with  the  blossoms  of  the  cherry-tree,  old  walls  covered 
with  budding  honeysuckles,  gardens  of  roses  from  which 
VOL.  i.  —  1 


2  CINQ-MARS. 

a  pointed  roof  suddenly  rises,  —  everything  reminds  you 
either  of  the  fertility  of  the  land  or  of  the  antiquity  of  its 
monuments ;  and  everything  interests  you  in  the  labors 
of  its  industrious  inhabitants.  Nothing  has  proved  use- 
less to  them ;  it  seems  as  if  in  their  love  for  so  beautiful 
a  country,  —  the  only  province  of  France  never  occupied 
by  the  foreigner, —  they  have  desired  not  to  lose  the 
least  portion  of  its  soil,  the  smallest  grain  of  its  sand. 
You  fancy  that  this  old  ruined  tower  is  inhabited  only 
by  the  hideous  birds  of  night  ?  No ;  at  the  sound  of 
your  horse's  hoofs,  the  smiling  face  of  a  young  girl 
issues  from  the  ivy,  whitened  with  the  dust  from  the 
high-road.  If  you  climb  a  hillside  bristling  with  vines, 
a  light  column  of  smoke  makes  you  aware  that  there  is 
a  chimney  at  your  feet ;  for  the  very  rock  is  inhabited, 
and  families  of  vine-dressers  breathe  in  its  profound  cav- 
erns, sheltered  at  night  by  the  nutritious  earth  which 
they  laboriously  cultivate  during  the  day.  The  good 
people  of  Touraine  are  as  simple  as  their  life,  gentle 
as  the  air  which  they  respire,  and  strong  as  the  power- 
ful earth  whicli  they  dig.  Their  countenances,  like  their 
characters,  have  something  of  the  openness  of  the  true 
people  of  Saint  Louis ;  their  chestnut  locks  are  still  long 
and  rounded  about  their  ears,  as  in  the  stone  statutes 
of  our  old  kings ;  their  language  is  the  purest  French, 
without  slowness,  rapidity,  or  accent,  —  the  cradle 
of  the  language  is  there,  hard  by  the  cradle  of  the 
monarchy. 

But  the  left  bank  of  the  Loire  is  of  a  more  serious 
aspect ;  here  in  the  distance  you  see  Chambord,  which, 
with  its  blue  domes  and  little  cupolas,  seems  like  some 


THE  ADIEU.  3 

great  Eastern  city ;  there  is  Chanteloup,  lifting  its  grace- 
ful pagoda  in  the  air.  After  these,  however,  a  more 
simple  building  attracts  the  eves  of  the  traveller  by  its 
magnificent  position  and  imposing  size;  it  is  the  chateau 
of  Chaumont.  Constructed  upon  the  highest  hill  of  the 
shore,  it  frames  its  broad  summit  with  its  lofty  walls 
and  its  enormous  towers ;  high  steeples  of  slate  in- 
crease their  loftiness,  and  confer  upon  the  entire  build- 
ing that  air  of  a  convent,  that  religious  form  of  all  our 
old  chateaux,  which  casts  a  character  of  gravity  over  the 
landscape  of  most  of  our  provinces.  Black  and  tufted 
trees  surround  this  ancient  mansion,  and  resemble  from 
afar  the  plumes  which  encircled  the  hat  of  King  Henri. 
At  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  connected  with  the  chateau 
by  a  narrow  path  winding  through  the  rock,  lies  a  pretty 
village,  whose  white  houses  seem  to  have  sprung  from 
the  golden  sand ;  a  chapel  stands  halfway  up  the  hill  ; 
the  lords  descended  and  the  villagers  ascended  to  its 
altar,  —  the  realm  of  equality,  situated  like  a  neutral 
city  between  misery  and  grandeur,  which  have  been  too 
often  opposed  to  one  another  in  battle  array. 

It  was  here  that  one  morning  in  the  month  of  June, 
1639,  the  bell  of  the  chateau  having,  as  usual,  rung  at 
midday,  the  dinner  hour  of  the  family,  there  were  pass- 
ing, in  this  ancient  dwelling,  occurrences  of  an  unusual 
kind.  The  numerous  domestics  observed  that  in  re- 
peating the  morning  prayer  to  the  assembled  house,  the 
Mare'chale  d'Effiat  had  spoken  with  a  broken  voice  and 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  that  she  had  appeared  in  a 
deeper  mourning  than  was  customary.  The  people  of 
the  household  and  the  Italians  of  the  Duchesse  de  Man- 


4  CINQ-MARS. 

tua,  who  had  at  that  time  retired  for  a  while  to  Chau- 
raont,  saw  with  surprise  that  preparations  were  suddenly 
making  for  departure.  The  old  domestic  of  the  Marechal 
d'Effiat,  himself  dead  six  months,  had  taken  again  to  his 
travelling-boots,  which  he  had  sworn  before  to  abandon 
forever.  This  brave  fellow,  named  Grandchamp,  had 
followed  the  chief  of  the  family  everywhere  in  the  wars, 
and  in  his  financial  labors ;  he  had  been  his  equerry  in 
the  first,  and  his  secretary  in  the  last.  He  had  recently 
returned  from  Germany,  to  acquaint  the  mother  and 
the  children  with  the  death  of  the  marechal,  whose  last 
sighs  he  had  heard  at  Luzzenstein.  He  was  one  of  those 
faithful  servants,  the  like  of  whom  are  become  too  rare 
in  France  ;  who  suffer  with  the  misfortunes  of  the  fam- 
ily, and  rejoice  with  their  joys  :  who  advocate  the  forma- 
tion of  marriages,  that  they  may  have  to  educate  young 
masters ;  who  scold  the  children  and  often  the  fathers ; 
who  expose  themselves  to  death  for  them ;  who  serve 
them  without  wages  in  revolutions  ;  who  labor  for  their 
sustenance ;  and  who  in  prosperous  times  follow  them 
everywhere,  and  exclaim  at  their  return,  "  Behold  our 
vines !  "  He  had  a  severe  and  remarkable  face,  a  cop- 
per complexion,  silvery-gray  hair,  of  which,  however, 
some  few  threads,  black  as  his  thick  eyebrows,  made 
him  appear  harsh  at  first,  but  a  gentle  countenance 
softened  this  first  impression.  At  present,  the  sound 
of  his  voice  was  loud.  He  busied  himself  much  that 
day  in  hastening  the  dinner,  and  ordered  about  all  the 
people  of  the  house,  who  were  in  mourning  like  himself. 
"  Come,"  said  he,  "  make  haste  to  serve  the  dinner, 
while  Germain,  Louis,  and  Etienne  go  and  saddle  their 


THE  ADIEU.  5 

horses ;  M.  Henri  and  I  must  be  far  away  hence  by 
eight  o'clock  this  evening.  And  you,  gentlemen,  Ital- 
ians, have  you  admonished  your  young  princess  ?  I 
wager  that  she  is  gone  to  read  with  her  ladies  at  the 
other  end  of  the  park,  or  upon  the  banks  of  the  lake. 
She  always  comes  in  after  the  first  course,  and  makes 
every  one  get  up  from  the  table." 

"  Ah,  my  good  Grandchamp,"  said  in  a  low  voice  a 
young  chambermaid  who  was  passing,  and  paused,  "  do 
not  speak  of  the  duchesse ;  she  is  very  sorrowful,  and  I 
believe  that  she  will  remain  in  her  apartment.  Santa 
Maria!  what  a  shame  to  travel  to-day!  depart  on  a 
Friday,  the  13th  of  the  month,  and  the  day  of  Saint 
Gervais  and  Saint  Protais,  —  the  day  of  two  martyrs ! 
I  have  been  telling  my  beads  all  the  morning  for  M.  de 
Cinq-Mars ;  verily,  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  these 
things.  And  my  mistress  thinks  of  them  too,  great  lady 
as  she  is  ;  so  that  you  need  not  laugh !  " 

With  these  words  the  young  Italian  girl  glided  like  a 
bird  across  the  large  dining-room,  and  vanished  into  a 
corridor,  startled  at  seeing  the  double  folds  of  the  great 
doors  of  the  saloon  opened. 

Grandchamp  had  scarcely  attended  to  what  she  had 
said,  and  seemed  to  have  been  only  occupied  with  the  pre- 
parations for  dinner;  he  fulfilled  the  important  duties 
of  major-domo,  and  cast  severe  looks  at  the  domestics, 
to  see  if  they  were  all  at  their  posts,  placing  himself  be- 
hind the  chair  of  the  eldest  son  of  the  house,  when  all 
the  inhabitants  of  the  mansion  successively  entered  the 
saloon.  Eleven  persons,  men  and  women,  seated  them- 
selves at  table.  The  marechale  came  in  last,  giving 


6  CINQ-MARS. 

her  arm  to  a  fine  old  man,  magnificently  attired,  whom 
she  placed  upon  her  left  hand.  She  seated  herself  in  a 
great  gilt  armchair  at  the  centre  of  the  table,  which  was 
oblong  in  form.  Another  seat,  rather  more  ornamented, 
was  at  her  right,  but  it  remained  empty.  The  young 
Marquis  d'Effiat,  seated  in  front  of  his  mother,  was  to 
assist  her  in  doing  the  honors  of  the  table.  He  was  not 
more  than  twenty  years  old,  and  his  countenance  was 
insignificant ;  much  gravity  and  distinguished  manners 
proclaimed,  however,  a  sociable  nature,  but  nothing 
more.  His  young  sister  of  fourteen,  two  gentlemen 
of  the  province,  three  young  Italian  noblemen  of  the 
suite  of  Marie  de  Gonzaga  (Duchesse  de  Mantua),  a 
lady-iii-waiting,  the  governess  of  the  young  daughter  of 
the  marechale,  and  an  abbe  of  the  neighborhood,  old 
and  very  deaf,  composed  the  assembly.  A  seat  at  the 
right  of  the  eldest  sou  still  remained  vacant. 

The  mare*chale,  before  seating  herself,  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross,  and  repeated  the  B6nedicit6  aloud ;  every 
one  responded  by  making  the  complete  sign,  or  upon  the 
breast  alone.  This  custom  was  preserved  in  many  fami- 
lies in  France  up  to  the  revolution  of  1789  ;  some 
still  retain  it,  but  more  in  the  provinces  than  in  Paris, 
and  not  without  some  embarrassment  and  some  prelim- 
inary words  upon  the  fine  weather,  accompanied  by  a 
smile  of  excuse  when  a  stranger  is  present, — for  it  is 
too  true  that  goodness  has  also  its  blush. 

The  mare'chale  was  a  woman  of  imposing  figure,  and 
her  large  blue  eyes  were  of  a  remarkable  beauty.  She 
did  not  appear  to  have  yet  attained  her  forty-fifth  year  ; 
but  oppressed  with  sorrow,  she  walked  slowly  and  spoke 


THE  ADIEU.  1 

with  difficulty,  closing  her  eyes,  and  suffering  her  head 
to  fall  for  a  moment  upon  her  breast,  after  she  had  been 
obliged  to  raise  her  voice.  At  such  times  her  hand 
pressed  to  her  bosom  showed  that  she  experienced  acute 
pain.  She  therefore  saw  with  satisfaction  that  the  per- 
sonage who  was  seated  at  her  left,  having  at  the  begin- 
ning engrossed  the  conversation,  without  having  been 
requested  to  converse  by  any  one,  persisted  with  an  im- 
perturbable coolness  in  engrossing  it  to  the  end  of  the 
repast.  This  was  the  old  Marechal  de  Bassoinpierre  ; 
he  had  preserved  beneath  his  white  hairs  an  air  of  youth 
and  vivacity  curious  to  see.  His  noble  and  polished  man- 
ners had  somewhat  of  a  gallantry  antiquated  like  his 
costume,  —  for  he  wore  a  ruff  in  the  fashion  of  Henri 
IV.,  and  slashed  sleeves  in  that  of  the  former  reign,  an 
absurdity  which  was  unpardonable  in  the  eyes  of  the 
beaux  of  the  court.  This  would  not  have  appeared  more 
singular  than  anything  else  at  present ;  but  it  is  ad- 
mitted that  in  every  age  we  laugh  at  the  costume  of  our 
fathers,  and,  save  the  Eastern  people,  I  know  of  none 
who  are -not  affected  with  this  evil. 

One  of  the  Italian  gentlemen  had  scarcely  finished  ask- 
ing the  mare'chal  what  he  thought  of  the  way  in  which 
the  cardinal  treated  the  daughter  of  the  Due  de  Mantua, 
than  he  exclaimed  in  his  familiar  language,  — 

"  Zounds,  sir !  what  are  you  talking  about  ?  what  can 
I  comprehend  of  this  new  system  under  which  France  is 
living  ?  We  old  companions  in  arms  of  the  late  king  can 
ill  understand  the  language  which  is  spoken  by  the  new 
court,  and  that  in  its  turn  does  not  comprehend  ours. 
But  what  do  I  say  ?  We  speak  no  language  in  this 


8  CINQ-MARS. 

mournful  country,  for  all  the  world  is  silent  before  the 
cardinal ;  this  haughty  little  vassal  looks  upon  us  as  old 
family  portraits,  which  every  now  and  then  he  abridges 
by  the  head,  but  happily  the  motto  always  remains.  Is 
it  not  so,  my  dear  Puy-Laurens  ?  " 

This  guest  was  about  the  same  age  as  the  marechal, 
but  being  more  grave  and  cautious  than  he,  answered 
in  vague  and  few  words,  and  made  a  sign  to  his  contem- 
porary in  order  to  induce  him  to  observe  the  unpleasant 
emotions  which  he  had  caused  to  the  mistress  of  the 
house  by  reminding  her  of  the  recent  death  of  her  hus- 
band and  speaking  thus  of  the  minister,  his  friend.  But 
it  was  in  vain,  for  Bassompierre,  contented  with  the  sign 
of  semi-approbation,  emptied  at  one  draught  a  great  gob- 
let of  wine,  —  a  remedy  which  he  lauds  in  his  memoirs 
as  infallible  against  the  plague  and  against  reserve ;  and 
leaning  back  to  receive  another  from  his  esquire,  he  es- 
tablished himself  more  firmly  than  ever  upon  his  chair, 
and  in  his  favorite  ideas. 

"  Yes,  we  are  in  the  way  here  ;  I  said  so  the  other 
day  to  my  dear  Due  de  Guise,  whom  they  have  ruined. 
They  number  the  minutes  that  we  have  to  live,  and 
shake  the  sand  to  hasten  its  descent.  When  M.  le 
Cardinal-Due  beholds  in  a  corner  three  or  four  of  our 
tall  figures,  who  never  quitted  the  side  of  the  late  king, 
he  feels  that  he  is  unable  to  stir  those  statues  of  iron, 
and  that  to  do  it  would  require  the  hand  of  a  great 
man  ;  he  passes  quickly  by,  and  dares  not  meddle  with 
us,  who  fear  him  not.  He  believes  that  we  are  always 
conspiring ;  and  at  this  very  moment  they  say  that  there 
is  talk  of  putting  me  in  the  Bastille." 


THE  ADIEU.  9 

"  Eh  !  M.  le  Mare'chal,  why  do  you  delay  your  de- 
parture ? "  said  the  Italian.  "  I  know  nowhere,  save 
Flanders,  where  you  can  find  shelter." 

"  Ah,  sir !  you  do  not  know  me.  So  far  from  flying,  I 
sought  out  the  king  before  his  departure,  and  I  told  him 
that  I  did  so  in  order  to  save  people  the  trouble  of  look- 
ing for  me  ;  and  that  if  I  knew  when  he  wished  to  send 
me,  I  would  go  myself  without  being  taken.  He  was  as 
good  as  I  expected  that  he  would  be,  and  said  to  me, 
*  How,  my  old  friend,  could  you  have  thought  that  I 
desired  to  send  you  there  ?  You  know  well  that  I  love 
you.'  " 

"  Ah,  my  dear  mare'chal,  let  me  compliment  you,'' 
said  Madame  d'Effiat,  in  a  soft  voice.  "  I  recognize  the 
benevolence  of  the  king  in  these  words ;  he  remembers 
the  affection  which  the  king,  his  father,  had  towards 
you.  It  appears  to  me  that  he  ever  accorded  to  you  all 
that  you  desired  for  your  friends,"  added  she,  with 
animation,  in  order  to  put  him  into  the  track  of  praise, 
and  to  draw  him  from  the  discontent  which  he  had  so 
loudly  declared. 

"  Assuredly,  Madame,"  answered  he  ;  "  no  one  is  more 
willing  to  recognize  his  virtues  than  Frangois  de  Bassom- 
pierre.  I  will  be  faithful  to  him  to  the  end,  because  I 
gave  myself,  body  and  goods,  to  his  father  at  a  ball ;  and 
I  swear  that  with  my  consent  at  least,  none  of  my  fam- 
ily shall  ever  fail  in  their  duties  towards  the  King  of 
France.  Although  the  Besteins  are  foreigners  and  Lor- 
rains,  a  shake  of  the  hand  from  Henri  IV.  gained  us  for- 
ever. My  greatest  grief  has  been  to  see  my  brother  die 
in  the  service  of  Spain ;  and  I  have  just  written  to  my 


10  CINQ-MARS. 

nephew  to  say  that  I  will  disinherit  him  if  he  passes  over 
to  the  emperor,  as  report  speaks  of  his  doing." 

One  of  the  gentlemen  who  had  as  yet  said  nothing,  and 
who  was  remarkable  for  the  profusion  of  knots,  ribbons, 
and  tags  which  covered  his  dress,  and  for  the  black  cor- 
don of  the  order  of  Saint  Michael  which  adorned  his 
neck,  bowed,  observing  that  it  was  thus  that  all  faithful 
subjects  ought  to  speak. 

"  I'  faith,  M.  de  Launay,  you  deceive  yourself  very 
much,"  said  the  mare'chal,  to  whom  the  recollection  of 
his  ancestors  now  occurred  ;  "  persons  of  our  blood  are 
subjects  in  heart,  for  God  has  caused  us  to  be  born  as 
much  lords  of  our  lands  as  the  king  is  of  his.  When 
I  came  into  France,  it  was  that  I  might  take  my  ease, 
accompanied  by  my  gentlemen  and  pages.  I  perceive, 
however,  that  the  farther  we  go,  the  more  we  lose  sight  of 
this  idea,  especialty  at  the  court.  But  here  comes  a  young 
man  who  arrives  very  opportunely  to  hear  me." 

The  door  indeed  opened,  and  there  entered  a  young 
man  of  fine  form.  He  was  pale ;  his  hair  was  brown, 
his  eyes  black,  his  expression  sorrowful  and  careless.  It 
was  Henri  d'Effiat,  Marquis  de  Cinq-Mars  (a  name  taken 
from  an  estate  of  his  family).  His  dress  and  his  short 
cloak  were  black  ;  a  collar  of  lace  fell  from  his  neck  half- 
way down  his  breast ;  his  stout,  small,  and  very  wide 
boots  and  his  spurs  made  so  much  noise  upon  the  flags 
of  the  saloon  that  his  approach  was  heard  at  a  distance. 
He  walked  right  up  to  the  mare'chale,  bowing  low,  and 
kissing  her  hand. 

"  Well,  Henri,"  said  she,  "  are  your  horses  ready  ? 
At  what  hour  do  you  depart  ?  " 


THE  ADIEU.  11 

"  Immediately  after  dinner,  Madame,  if  you  will  allow 
me  "  said  he  to  his  mother,  with  the  ceremonious  respect 
of  the  times  ;  and  passing  behind  her,  he  saluted  M.  de 
Bassompierre  before  seating  himself  upon  the  left  hand 
of  his  eldest  brother. 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  mare'chal,  continuing  to  eat 
with  an  excellent  appetite,  "  you  are  about  to  depart,  my 
son ;  you  are  going  to  the  court, — a  slippery  place  nowa- 
days. I  am  sorry  for  your  sake  that  it  is  not  now  what 
it  used  to  be.  In  former  times,  the  court  was  simply 
the  drawing-room  of  the  king,  in  which  he  received  his 
natural  friends  ;  nobles  of  great  family,  his  peers,  who 
visited  him  to  show  their  devotion  and  their  friendship, 
lost  their  money  with  him,  and  accompanied  him  in  his 
pleasure  parties,  but  never  received  anything  of  him, 
except  permission  to  bring  their  vassals  with  themselves 
to  break  their  heads  in  his  service.  The  honors  which 
a  man  of  quality  received  did  not  enrich  him,  for  he  paid 
for  them  out  of  his  purse.  I  sold  an  estate  for  every 
grade  I  ascended  ;  the  title  of  colonel-general  of  the 
Swiss  cost  me  four  hundred  thousand  crowns,  and  at 
the  baptism  of  the  present  king  I  had  to  buy  a  costume 
which  cost  me  a  hundred  thousand  francs." 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  mistress  of  the  house,  smiling,  "  you 
must  acknowledge  for  once  that  you  were  not  obliged  to 
do  that.  We  have  all  heard  of  your  splendid  dress  of 
pearls ;  but  I  should  be  much  vexed  if  it  were  still  the 
custom  to  wear  such." 

"  Oh,  Madame  la  Marquise,  do  not  fear,  those  times  of 
magnificence  will  never  return.  We  committed  follies, 
no  doubt,  but  they  proved  our  independence ;  it  is  clear 


12  CINQ-MARS. 

that  it  would  then  have  been  hard  to  seduce  from  their 
allegiance  to  the  king  servants  who  were  attached  to 
him  by  love  alone,  and  whose  coronets  contained  as 
many  diamonds  as  his  own  locked-up  crown.  It  is  also 
manifest  that  ambition  could  not  then  attack  all  classes, 
since  such  expenses  could  only  come  from  rich  hands, 
and  since  gold  comes  only  from  mines.  Those  great 
houses  which  are  being  so  furiously  assailed  were  not 
ambitious,  and  frequently  desiring  no  employment  from 
the  Government,  maintained  their  places  at  court  by 
their  own  weight,  existed  upon  their  own  foundation,  and 
might  say,  as  one  of  them  did  say, '  The  prince  conde- 
scends not ;  I  am  Rohan.'  It  was  the  same  with  every 
noble  family,  to  which  its  own  nobility  sufficed  ;  the  king 
himself  expressed  it  in  writing  to  one  of  my  friends, 
'  Money  is  not  common  goods  between  gentlemen  like 
you  and  me.' " 

"  But,  M.  le  Mardchal,"  coldly  and  with  extreme  po- 
liteness interrupted  M.  de  Launay,  who  perhaps  in- 
tended to  anger  him,  "  this  independence  has  pro- 
duced many  civil  wars  and  revolts,  as  those  of  M.  de 
Montmorency." 

"  Zounds,  sir !  I  cannot  consent  to  hear  these  things 
spoken,"  said  the  fiery  mare'chal,  leaping  up  in  his  arm- 
chair. "  Those  revolts  and  wars,  sir,  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  fundamental  laws  of  the  State,  and  could  no 
more  have  overturned  the  throne  than  a  duel  could  have 
done  so.  Of  all  the  great  party-chiefs,  there  was  not 
one  who  would  not  have  laid  his  victory  at  the  feet  of 
the  king,  had  he  succeeded,  knowing  well  that  all  the 
other  lords  who  were  as  great  as  himself  would  have 


THE  ADIEU.  13 

abandoned  the  enemy  of  the  legitimate  sovereign.  Arms 
were  taken  against  a  faction,  and  not  against  the  sover- 
eign authority  ;  and,  this  destroyed,  all  things  went  on 
again  in  their  old  course.  But  what  have  you  done  in 
crushing  us  ?  You  have  crushed  the  arm  of  the  throne, 
and  have  not  put  anything  in  its  place.  Yes,  I  no 
longer  doubt  but  that  the  cardinal-due  will  wholly  ac- 
complish his  design ;  the  great  nobility  will  leave  and 
lose  their  lands,  and  ceasing  to  be  great  proprietors,  they 
will  cease  to  be  a  great  power.  The  court  is  already 
no  more  than  a  palace  where  people  beg ;  by-and-by  it 
will  become  an  antechamber,  when  it  will  be  only  com- 
posed of  those  who  constitute  the  suite  of  the  king. 
Great  names  will  begin  by  ennobling  vile  offices  ;  but 
by  a  terrible  reaction,  those  offices  will  end  by  render- 
ing great  names  vile.  Estranged  from  their  homes, 
the  nobility  will  be  dependent  upon  the  employments 
which  they  shall  have  received  ;  and  if  the  people,  over 
whom  they  will  no  longer  have  any  influence,  choose 
to  revolt  —  " 

"  How  dismal  you  are  to-day,  Mare'chal !  "  interrupted 
the  marquise  ;  "  I  hope  that  neither  I  nor  my  children 
will  ever  see  that  time.  I  no  longer  perceive  your 
cheerful  character,  now  that  you  assume  the  politician ; 
I  expected  to  hear  you  give  advice  to  my  son.  Henri, 
what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  You  seem  very  absent." 

Cinq-Mars,  with  eyes  fixed  upon  the  great  bay-window 
of  the  dining-room,  looked  sorrowfully  upon  the  mag- 
nificent landscape  which  stretched  beyond.  The  sun 
was  in  all  its  splendor,  and  colored  the  sands  of  the 
Loire,  the  trees,  and  the  lawns  with  gold  and  emerald. 


14  CINQ-MARS. 

The  sky  was  azure,  the  waves  of  a  transparent  yellow, 
the  isles  of  a  brilliant  green;  behind  their  rounded 
forms  rose  the  great  sails  of  the  merchant  vessels  like 
a  fleet  in  ambuscade. 

"  0  Nature,  Nature  ! "  mused  he  ;  "  beautiful  Nature, 
adieu  !  Soon  will  my  heart  have  ceased  to  be  of  sim- 
plicity enough  to  feel  you ;  soon  you  will  no  longer 
charm  my  eyes.  This  heart  is  already  burned  by  a  deep 
passion  ;  and  the  mention  of  the  interests  of  men  casts 
into  it  hitherto  unknown  agitation.  I  must,  however, 
enter  this  labyrinth  ;  I  may,  haply,  lose  myself  there, 
but  for  Marie  — 

At  this  moment,  aroused  by  the  words  of  his  mother, 
and  fearing  to  exhibit  a  childish  regret  at  leaving  his 
beautiful  country  and  his  family,  he  said, — 

"  I  am  thinking,  Madame,  of  the  road  which  I  shall 
take  to  Perpignan,  and  also  of  that  which  shall  lead  me 
back  to  you." 

"  Do  not  forget  to  take  that  of  Poitiers,  and  to  go  to 
Loudun  to  see  your  old  tutor,  our  good  Abb6  Quillet ; 
he  will  give  you  serviceable  advice  touching  the  court. 
He  is  on  very  good  terms  with  the  Due  de  Bouillon ; 
and  besides,  though  he  may  not  be  very  necessary  to 
you,  it  is  a  mark  of  deference  which  you  owe  him." 

"Is  it,  then,  to  the  siege  of  Perpignan  that  you  are 
going?"  asked  the  old  mare'chal,  who  began  to  think 
that  he  had  been  silent  a  long  time.  "  Ah  !  it  is  well 
for  you.  Plague  upon  it !  a  siege !  't  is  an  excellent 
opening.  I  would  have  given  much  to  have  assisted  the 
late  king  at  a  siege,  upon  my  arrival  in  his  court ;  it 
would  have  been  better  to  have  been  disembowelled  then 


THE  ADIEU.  15 

than  at  a  tourney,  as  I  was.  But  we  were  at  peace  ; 
and  I  was  compelled  to  go  and  pistol  the  Turks  with  the 
Rosworm  of  the  Hungarians,  in  order  that  I  might  not 
afflict  my  family  by  my  idleness.  For  the  rest,  may  his 
Majesty  receive  you  as  amiably  as  his  father  received 
me !  It  is  true  that  the  king  is  brave  and  good ;  but 
they  have  unfortunately  taught  him  that  old  Spanish  eti- 
quette which  arrests  all  the  impulses  of  the  heart.  He 
restrains  himself  and  others  by  an  immovable  presence 
and  look  of  ice  ;  as  for  me,  I  confess  that  I  am  always 
waiting  for  the  moment  of  thaw,  but  in  vain.  We  were 
accustomed  to  other  manners  from  the  witty  and  simple- 
hearted  Henri ;  and  we  had  at  least  the  liberty  to  tell 
him  that  we  loved  him." 

Cinq-Mars,  with  eyes  fixed  upon  those  of  Bassom- 
pierre  as  if  to  force  himself  to  attend  to  his  discourse, 
asked  him  what  was  the  manner  of  the  late  king  in 
talking. 

"  Lively  and  frank,"  said  he.  "  Some  time  after  my 
arrival  in  France,  I  played  with  him  and  with  the 
Duchesse  de  Beaufort  at  Fontainebleau ;  for  he  wished, 
he  said,  to  win  my  gold-pieces,  my  fine  Portugal  bits. 
He  asked  me  why  I  came  into  this  country.  '  I'  faith, 
Sire,'  said  I,  frankly, '  I  came  with  no  intention  of  en- 
listing myself  in  your  service,  but  only  with  a  mind  to 
pass  some  time  at  your  court,  and  afterwards  at  that  of 
Spain ;  but  you  have  charmed  me  so  much  that  instead 
of  going  farther,  if  you  desire  my  service,  I  will  devote 
myself  to  it  till  death.'  Then  he  embraced  me,  and  as- 
sured me  that  I  could  not  find  a  better  master,  or  one 
who  would  love  me  more.  Alas  !  I  have  found  it  so. 


16  CINQ-MARS. 

And  for  my  part,  I  sacrificed  all  to  him,  even  my  love ; 
and  I  would  have  done  more,  had  it  been  possible  to  do 
more  than  renounce  Mademoiselle  de  Montmorency." 

The  good  inare'chal  had  tears  in  his  eyes ;  but  the 
young  Marquis  d'Effiat  and  the  Italians,  looking  at 
each  other,  could  not  help  smiling  at  thinking  that  at 
present  the  Princesse  de  Cond^  was  very  far  from  young 
and  pretty.  Cinq-Mars  remarked  this  interchange  of 
looks,  and  also  smiled,  but  bitterly. 

"  Is  it  then  true,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  that  the  affec- 
tions have  the  same  destiny  with  the  fashions,  and  that 
a  few  years  can  cast  the  same  ridicule  upon  a  costume 
and  upon  love  ?  Happy  is  he  who  does  not  survive  his 
youth  and  his  illusions,  and  who  carries  his  treasure 
.  with  him  to  the  grave  !  " 

But  again  with  effort  breaking  the  melancholy  course 
of  his  thoughts,  and  wishing  that  the  good  mare'chal 
should  read  nothing  unpleasant  upon  the  countenance 
of  his  hosts,  he  said,  — 

"  People  spoke,  then,  with  much  freedom  to  King 
Henri  ?  Perhaps,  though,  lie  had  need  to  assume  that 
tone  at  the  beginning  of  his  reign  ;  but  when  he  was 
master  did  he  alter  it?" 

"  Never  ;  no,  never,  to  his  last  day,  did  our  great  king 
cease  to  be  the  same.  He  did  not  blush  at  being  a  man, 
and  spoke  to  men  with  vigor  and  sensibility.  Ah !  I 
fancy  I  see  him  now,  embracing  the  Due  de  Guise  in 
his  carriage,  the  very  day  of  his  death ;  he  had  hit  off 
one  of  his  lively  pleasantries  to  me,  and  the  due  said 
to  him,  '  You  are,  to  my  taste,  one  of  the  most  agree- 
able men  in  the  world,  and  our  destiny  ordained  us  for 


THE  ADIEU.  17 

each  other.  For  if  you  had  been  but  an  ordinary  man,  I 
should  have  taken  you  into  my  service  at  whatever 
price  ;  but  since  Heaven  ordained  that  you  should  be 
born  a  great  king,  it  has  necessarily  happened  that  I 
belong  to  you.'  Oh,  great  man ! "  cried  Bassompierre, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  perhaps  a  little  excited  by 
the  frequent  bumpers  he  had  drunk,  "  you  said  well, 
'  When  you  have  lost  me  you  will  learn  my  value.'  " 

During  this  sally,  the  different  persons  at  the  table 
had  assumed  various  attitudes,  according  to  their  posi- 
tion in  public  affairs.  One  of  the  Italians  pretended  to 
chat  and  laugh  in  a  subdued  manner  with  the  young 
daughter  of  the  marechale ;  the  other  took  care  of  the 
deaf  old  abbe",  who,  putting  his  hand  behind  his  ear 
that  he  might  hear,  was  the  only  one  who  seemed  at- 
tentive. Cinq-Mars  had  sunk  back  into  his  melancholy 
abstraction,  after  having  cast  a  glance  at  the  mare'chal, 
as  one  looks  aside  after  having  thrown  a  tennis-ball 
until  its  return ;  his  eldest  brother  did  the  honors  of  the 
table  with  the  same  calm.  Puy-Laurens  watched  the 
mistress  of  the  house  with  attention  ;  he  was  devoted  to 
the  Due  d'Orleans,  and  dreaded  the  cardinal.  As  for 
the  mare'chale,  she  had  an  anxious  and  afflicted  air. 
Inconsiderate  words  had  often  recalled  the  death  of  her 
husband  or  the  departure  of  her  son  ;  and  oftener  still, 
she  feared  lest  Bassompierre  should  compromise  him- 
self. And  she  had  many  times  touched  him,  looking  at 
the  same  time  towards  M.  de  Launay,  whom  she  knew 
little  of,  and  whom  she  had  reason  to  believe  devoted  to 
the  prime  minister  ;  but  to  a  man  of  his  character,  such 
warnings  were  useless.  He  appeared  not  to  perceive 

VOL.  I.  —  2 


18  CINQ-MARS. 

them  ;  and  on  the  contrary,  crushing  that  gentleman  with 
his  bold  looks  and  the  sound  of  his  voice,  he  affected 
to  turn  himself  towards  and  to  direct  all  his  conversa- 
tion to  him.  As  for  the  latter,  he  assumed  an  air  of 
indifference  and  of  assenting  politeness,  which  he  never 
abandoned  until  the  moment  when  the  folding-doors 
opened,  and  "  Mademoiselle  la  Duchesse  de  Mantua " 
was  announced. 

The  conversation  which  we  have  transcribed  so  length- 
ily passed,  however,  rapidly  ;  and  the  dinner  was  but 
half  over  when  the  arrival  of  Marie  de  Gonzaga  caused 
everybody  to  rise.  She  was  small,  but  very  well  made, 
and  although  her  eyes  and  her  hair  were  black,  her  com- 
plexion was  as  dazzling  as  the  beauty  of  her  skin.  The 
mare'chale  arose  to  acknowledge  her  rank,  and  kissed 
her  on  the  forehead,  in  recognition  of  her  goodness  and 
lovely  age. 

"  We  have  waited  long  for  you  to-day,  dear  Marie," 
said  she,  placing  her  beside  her  ;  "  fortunately  you  re- 
main with  me  to  replace  one  of  my  children,  who  is 
about  to  depart." 

The  young  duchesse  blushed,  dropped  her  head  and 
her  eyes,  in  order  that  no  one  might  see  their  redness, 
and  said  in  a  timid  voice,  — 

"  Madame,  that  may  well  be,  since  you  are  to  me  in 
the  place  of  a  mother." 

And  a  glance  made  Cinq-Mars,  at  the  other  end  of 
the  table,  turn  pale. 

This  arrival  changed  the  conversation ;  it  ceased  to 
be  general,  and  each  conversed  in  a  low  voice  with 
the  person  next  him.  The  mare'chal  alone  continued  to 


THE  ADIEU.  19 

utter  a  few  sentences  concerning  the  magnificence  of 
the  old  court,  his  wars  in  Turkey,  the  tournaments, 
and  the  avarice  of  the  new  court ;  but  to  his  great  're- 
gret, no  one  took  up  his  words,  and  the  company  were 
leaving  the  table,  when  the  clock  having  struck  two, 
five  horses  appeared  in  the  courtyard.  Four  only  were 
mounted  by  domestics,  cloaked  and  armed ;  the  other 
horse,  black  and  very  spirited,  was  held  by  old  Grand- 
champ,  —  it  was  the  steed  of  his  master. 

"  Ah,  ah  !  "  exclaimed  Bassompierre  ;  "  see,  there,  our 
battle-horses  saddled  and  bridled.  Come,  young  man, 
we  must  say,  with  our  old  Marot, — 

« 

"  '  Adieu  la  cour,  adieu  les  dames  ! 
Adieu  les  filles  et  les  femmes  ! 
Adieu  vous  dy  pour  quelque  temps  ; 
Adieu  vos  plaisants  passe-temps  ! 
Adieu  le  bal,  adieu  la  dance  ; 
Adieu  rnesure,  adieu  cadance, 
Tabourins,  hautbois,  violons, 
Puisqu'ii.  la  guerre  nous  aliens ! ' " 

These  old  verses  and  the  air  of  the  mare'chal  made  all 
the  table  laugh,  save  three  persons. 

"  Heavens  !  "  continued  he,  "  it  seems  to  me  as  if,  like 
him,  I  were  but  seventeen  years  old ;  he  will  return  to 
us  all  embroidered.  Madame,  we  must  leave  a  chair 
vacant  for  him." 

Here  the  marechale  grew  suddenly  pale,  left  the  table 
suffused  with  tears,  and  every  one  rose  with  her ;  she 
could  only  take  two  steps,  and  sank  into  another  chair. 
Her  sons  and  her  daughter  and  the  young  duchesse 
came  anxiously  around  her,  and  made  out  the  follow- 


20  CINQ- MARS. 

ing  words,  amid  the  sighs  and  tears  which  she  strove 
to  restrain  :  - 

"  Pardon,  my  friends  !  it  is  foolish  of  me  —  childish; 
but  1  am  weak  at  present,  and  am  not  mistress  of  my- 
self. We  were  thirteen  at  table  ;  and  you,  my  dear 
duchesse,  were  the  cause  of  it.  But  it  is  very  wrong  of 
me  to  show  so  much  weakness  before  him.  Farewell,  my 
child  ;  give  me  your  forehead  to  kiss,  and  may  God  con- 
duct you  !  Be  worthy  of  your  name*  and  of  your  father." 

Then,  as  Homer  says,  smiling  under  tears,  she  raised 
herself,  pushed  him  from  her,  and  said  :  — 

"  Come,  let  us  see  you  on  horseback,  fair  sir." 

The  silent  traveller  kissed  the  hand  of  his  mother,  and 
afterwards  made  a  low  bow  to  her  ;  he  also  bowed  to  the 
duchesse,  without  raising  his  eyes.  Then,  embracing  his 
elder  brother,  pressing  the  hand  of  the  marechal,  and 
kissing  the  forehead  of  his  young  sister  almost  simulta- 
neously, he  went  forth,  and  was  on  horseback  in  an 
instant.  Every  one  went  to  the  windows  which  over- 
looked the  court,  except  Madame  d'Effiat,  who  was 
still  seated  and  suffering. 

"  He  departs  at  full  gallop.  That  is  a  good  sign," 
said  the  mare'chal,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  God  ! "  cried  the  young  princess,  retiring  from 
the  bay-window. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  said  the  mother. 

"  Nothing,  nothing ! "  said  M.  de  Launay.  "  Your  son's 
horse  stumbled  under  the  gateway ;  but  he  soon  pulled 
him  up.  See,  he  salutes  us  from  the  road." 

"  Another  ominous  presage  !  "  said  the  marquise,  upon 
retiring  to  her  apartments. 


THE    ADIEU 


THE  ADIEU.  21 

Every  one  imitated  her  by  being  silent  or  speaking 
low. 

The  day  was  mournful  and  the  supper  in  the  evening 
silent  at  the  chateau  of  Cb.au mont. 

At  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  the  old  mare'chal,  con- 
ducted by  his  valet,  retired  to  the  northern  tower  near 
the  gateway,  and  opposite  to  the  river.  The  heat  was 
extreme  ;  he  opened  the  window,  and  enveloping  himself 
in  his  great  silk  robe,  placed  a  heavy  candlestick  upon 
the  table,  and  desired  to  be  left  alone.  His  window 
looked  out  upon  the  plain,  which  the  moon,  in  her  first 
quarter,  indistinctly  lighted ;  the  sky  was  charged  with 
heavy  clouds,  and  all  things  disposed  the  mind  to  mel- 
ancholy. Although  Bassompierre  had  nothing  of  the 
dreamer  in  his  character,  the  turn  which  the  conversa- 
tion had  taken  at  dinner  came  to  his  memory,  and  he 
began  to  reconsider  the  course  of  his  life,  the  mournful 
changes  which  the  new  reign  had  wrought  in  it,  a  reign 
which  seemed  to  have  breathed  upon  him  a  wind  of  mis- 
fortune, —  the  death  of  a  cherished  sister  ;  the  irregular- 
ities of  the  heir  of  his  name  ;  the  loss  of  his  lands  and 
of  his  favor  at  court ;  the  recent  end  of  his  friend,  the 
Mare'chal  d'Effiat,  whose  chambers  he  now  occupied. 
All  these  thoughts  drew  from  him  an  involuntary  sigh, 
and  he  placed  himself  at  the  window  to  breathe. 

At  this  moment  he  thought  he  heard  the  tramp  of  a 
troop  of  horse  at  the  side  of  the  wood ;  but  the  wind, 
which  was  rising,  made  him  conclude  that  he  had  been 
mistaken,  and  the  noise  suddenly  ceasing,  he  forgot  it. 
He  still  watched  for  some  time  all  the  lights  of  the 
chateau,  which  became  successively  extinguished,  after 


22  CINQ-MARS. 

having  wound  among  the  windows  of  the  staircases  and 
rambled  about  the  courtyards  and  the  stables ;  after- 
wards, falling  back  in  his  great  tapestried  armchair,  his 
elbow  resting  on  the  table,  he  abandoned  himself  to  his 
reflections.  And  after  a  while,  drawing  from  his  breast 
a  medallion  which  hung  concealed,  suspended  by  a  black 
ribbon,  he  said,  — 

u  Come,  my  good  old  master,  talk  with  me  as  you  have 
so  often  done  ;  come,  great  king,  forget  your  court  for 
the  smile  of  a  true  friend  ;  come,  great  man,  consult  me 
concerning  ambitious  Austria ;  come,  inconstant  cheva- 
lier, speak  to  me  of  the  lightness  of  thy  love,  and  of  the 
fidelity  of  thine  inconstancy  ;  come,  heroic  soldier,  com- 
plain to  me  again  that  I  balk  you  in  the  combat.  Ah, 
have  I  not  done  it  in  Paris  ?  Why  did  I  not  receive  thy 
wound  ?  With  thy  blood  the  world  has  lost  the  benefits 
of  thine  interrupted  reign  —  " 

The  tears  of  the  mardchal  obscured  the  glass  which 
covered  the  large  medallion,  and  he  was  effacing  them 
with  respectful  kisses,  when,  his  door  being  roughly 
opened,  he  seized  upon  his  sword. 

"  Who  goes  there  ? "  cried  he,  in  his  surprise,  which 
was  much  increased  when  he  saw  M.  de  Lauriay,  who, 
hat  in  hand,  advanced  towards  him,  and  said  to  him 
with  embarrassment,  — 

"  Sir,  it  is  with  a  heart  pierced  with  grief  that  I  am 
forced  to  tell  you  that  the  king  has  commanded  me  to 
arrest  you.  A  carriage  awaits  you  at  the  gate,  attended 
by  thirty  of  the  cardinal-due's  musketeers." 

Bassompierre  had  not  risen  ;  and  he  still  held  the 
medallion  in  his  right  hand,  and  the  sword  in  the  other. 


THE  ADIEU.  23 

He  tendered  it  disdainfully  to  this  man,  and  said  to 
him,  — 

"  Sir,  I  know  that  I  have  lived  too  long,  and  it  is  that 
of  which  I  was  thinking  ;  it  is  in  the  name  of  the  great 
Henri  that  I  restore  this  sword  peacefully  to  his  son. 
Follow  me." 

He  accompanied  these  words  with  a  look  so  firm  that 
De  Launay  was  depressed,  and  followed  him  with  droop- 
ing head,  as  if  he  had  himself  been  arrested  by  the  noble 
old  man,  who,  seizing  a,  flambeau,  issued  from  the  court 
and  found  all  the  doors  opened  by  horse-guards,  who 
had  terrified  the  people  of  the  chateau  in  the  name  of 
the  king,  and  commanded  silence.  The  carriage  was 
ready,  and  departed  rapidly,  followed  by  many  horses. 
The  inarechal,  seated  beside  M.  de  Launay,  began  to 
sleep,  rocked  by  the  movement  of  the  vehicle,  when  a 
voice  cried  to  the  driver,  "  Stop  !  "  and  as  he  continued, 
a  pistol-shot  followed.  The  horses  stopped. 

"  I  declare,  sir,  that  this  is  done  without  my  participa- 
tion," said  Bassompierre.  Then  putting  his  head  out  at 
the  door,  he  saw  that  they  were  in  a  little  wood,  and  a 
road  too  narrow  to  allow  of  the  horses  passing  to  the 
right  or  to  the  left  of  the  carriage, —  a  great  advantage 
for  the  aggressors,  since  the  musketeers  could  not  ad- 
vance ;  he  tried  to  see  what  was  going  on  when  a  cavalier, 
having  in  his  hand  a  long  sword,  with  which  he  parried 
the  strokes  of  the  guard,  approached  the  door,  crying, 

"  Come,  come,  M.  le  Mare'chal !  " 

"  What !  is  that  you,  you  madcap,  Henri,  who  are 
playing  these  pranks?  Sirs,  sirs,  let  him  alone;  he 
is  a  mere  bov." 


24  CINQ-MARS. 

And  De  Launay,  having  culled  to  the  musketeers  to 
cease,  had  time  to  look  about  him. 

"  And  how  the  devil  came  you  here  ?  "  cried  Bassom- 
pierre.  "  1  thought  you  were  at  Tours,  or  even  farther, 
if  you  had  done  your  duty  ;  but  here  you  are  returned 
to  make  a  fool  of  yourself." 

"  Truly,  it  was  not  for  you  I  returned,  but  for  a  secret 
affair,"  said  Cinq-Mars,  in  a  lower  tone  ;  "  but  as  I  take 
it,  they  are  going  to  introduce  you  to  the  Bastille,  I  'in 
sure  you  will  not  betray  me,  for  that  delightful  edifice  is 
the  very  Temple  of  Discretion.  Yet  had  you  thought 
fit,"  he  continued,  aloud.  ;t  I  would  have  released  you 
from  these  gentlemen  in  the  wood  here,  which  is  so  thick 
that  their  horses  would  not  have  been  able  to  stir.  A 
peasant  informed  me  of  the  insult  passed  upon  us,  more 
than  upon  you,  by  this  violation  of  my  father's  house." 

"  It  is  the  king's  order,  my  son,  and  we  must  respect 
his  will ;  reserve  this  ardor  for  his  service,  though  I 
thank  you  with  all  my  heart.  Now  adieu,  and  let  me 
proceed  on  my  agreeable  journey." 

De  Launay  interposed,  "  I  may  inform  you,  M.  de 
Cinq-Mars,  that  I  have  been  desired  by  the  king  himself 
to  assure  M.  le  Mardchal  that  he  is  deeply  afflicted  at  the 
step  he  has  found  it  necessary  thus  to  take,  and  that  it 
is  solely  from  an  apprehension  that  M.  le  Mare'chal  may 
be  led  into  evil  that  his  Majesty  requests  him  to  reside 
for  a  few  days  in  the  Bastille."  1 

Bassompierre  turned  his  head  with  a  hearty  laugh  to 
Cinq-Mars.  "  You  see,  my  friends,  how  we  young  folks 
are  placed  under  guardianship  ;  so  take  care  of  yourself." 

1  He  remained  there  twelve  years. 


THE  ADIEU.  25 

"  I  will  go,  then,"  said  Henri ;  u  this  is  the  last  time 
I  shall  play  the  knight-errant  for  people  against  their 
will ;  "  and  re-entering  the  wood  as  the  carriage  dashed 
off  at  full  speed,  he  proceeded  along  by  by-paths  towards 
the  castle,  followed  at  a  short  distance  by  Grandchamp 
and  his  small  escort. 

On  reaching  the  foot  of  the  western  tower,  he  pulled 
in  his  horse.  He  did  not  alight,  but  approaching  so  near 
the  wall  that  he  could  rest  his  foot  upon  an  abutment,  he 
stood  up,  and  raised  the  blind  of  a  window  on  the  ground- 
floor. 

It  was  now  past  midnight,  and  the  moon  was  hidden 
behind  the  clouds.  No  one  but  a  member  of  the  family 
could  have  found  his  way  through  so  profound  an  obscu- 
rity. The  towers  and  the  roof  formed  one  dark  mass, 
which  stood  out  in  but  indistinct  relief  upon  the  sky, 
scarcely  less  dark  ;  no  light  shone  throughout  the  cha- 
teau, all  whose  inmates  seemed  buried  in  slumber.  Cinq- 
Mars,  enveloped  in  a  large  cloak,  and  his  face  hidden 
under  the  broad  brim  of  his  hat,  awaited  in  suspense  a 
reply  to  his  signal. 

It  came  ;  a  soft  voice  was  heard  from  within,  — 

"  Is  that  you,  M.  de  Cinq-Mars  ?  " 

"  Alas,  who  else  should  it  be  ?  Who  else  would  return 
like  a  malefactor  to  his  paternal  house,  without  entering 
it,  without  bidding  one  more  adieu  to  his  mother  ?  Who 
else  would  return  to  complain  of  the  present,  without  a 
hope  from  the  future,  but  I  ? " 

The  gentle  voice  replied,  but  its  tones  were  agitated, 
and  perceptibly  accompanied  with  tears,  "  Alas,  Henri, 
of  what  do  you  complain  ?  Have  I  not  already  done 


26  CINQ-MARS. 

more,  far  more  than  I  ought  to  have  done  ?  It  is  not  my 
fault,  but  my  misfortune,  that  my  father  was  a  sovereign 
prince.  One  cannot  choose  one's  birthplace  or  one's 
rank.  Yet  how  miserable  is  the  lot  of  princesses !  From 
the  cradle,  the  sentiments  of  the  heart  are  prohibited  to 
them  ;  and  when  they  have  advanced  beyond  childhood, 
they  are  ceded  like  a  town,  and  must  not  even  weep. 
Since  I  have  known  you,  what  have  I  not  done  to  bring 
my  future  life  within  the  reach  of  happiness,  in  removing 
it  far  from  a  throne  ?  For  two  years  I  have  struggled  in 
vain,  at  once  against  my  evil  fortune,  that  separates  me 
from  you,  and  against  you,  who  estrange  me  from  the 
duty  I  owe  to  my  family.  I  have  sought  to  diffuse  a  be- 
lief that  I  was  dead ;  I  have  almost  sighed  for  revolu- 
tions. I  should  have  blessed  a  change  which  deprived 
me  of  my  rank,  as  I  thanked  Heaven  when  my  father 
was  dethroned ;  but  the  court  wonders  at  my  absence  ; 
the  queen  requires  me  to  attend  her.  Our  dreams  are  at 
an  end,  Henri ;  we  have  already  slumbered  too  long.  Let 
us  awake,  and  courageously  think  no  more  of  those  dear 
two  years,  —  forget  all  in  the  one  recollection  of  our  great 
resolve.  Have  but  one  thought ;  be  ambitious  for  —  be 
ambitious  —  for  my  sake." 

"  Must  we,  then,  indeed,  forget  all,  Marie  ? "  murmured 
Cinq-Mars. 

She  hesitated. 

"  Yes,  forget  all  —  that  I  myself  have  forgotten." 
Then  after  a  moment's  pause  she  resumed  with  earnest- 
ness, "Yes,  forget  our  happy  days  together,  our  long 
evenings,  even  our  walks  by  the  lake  and  through  the 
wood  ;  but  keep  in  mind  the  future.  Go,  Henri ;  your 


THE  ADIEU.  21 

father  was  marechal.  Be  you  more ;  be  you  constable, 
prince.  Go;  you  are  young,  noble,  rich,  brave,  be- 
loved —  " 

"  Beloved  forever  ?  "  said  Henri. 

"  Forever,  here  and  hereafter." 

Cinq-Mars,  tremulously  extending  his  hand  to  the 
window,  exclaimed,  — 

"  Well,  then,  I  swear,  Marie,  by  the  Virgin,  whose 
name  you  bear,  that  you  shall  be  mine,  or  my  head 
shall  fall  on  the  scaffold!" 

"  Oh,  Heaven  !  what  is't  you  say  ?"  she  cried,  taking 
his  hand  in  her  own.  "  Swear  to  me  that  you  will  share 
in  no  guilty  efforts  ;  that  you  will  never  forget  that  the 
King  of  France  is  your  master.  Ever  love  him  next  to 
her  who  will  sacrifice  all  for  you,  who  will  await  you 
amid  suffering  and  sorrow.  Take  this  little  gold  cross 
and  wear  it  upon  your  heart ;  it  has  often  been  wet  with 
my  tears,  and  those  tears  will  flow  still  more  bitterly 
if  ever  you  are  culpable  towards  the  king.  Give  me  the 
ring  I  see  on  your  finger.  Oh,  heavens,  my  hand  and 
yours  are  red  with  blood  !  " 

"  Oh,  a  scratch.  Did  you  hear  nothing,  some  hour 
ago?" 

"  No  ;  but  listen.     Hear  you  nothing  now  ?  " 

"  No,  Marie,  nothing  but  some  bird  of  night  on  the 
tower." 

"  I  heard  whispering  near  us,  I  am  sure.  But  whence 
this  blood  ?  Tell  me  and  then  depart." 

"  Yes,  I  will  go,  while  the  clouds  are  still  dark  above 
us.  Farewell,  celestial  creature ;  in  my  hour  of  danger 
I  will  invoke  thee  as  a  guardian  angel.  Love  has  in- 


28  CINQ-MARS. 

fused  the  poison  of  ambition  into  my  soul,  and  for  the 
first  time  I  feel  that  ambition  may  be  ennobled  by  its 
aim.  Farewell !  I  go  to  accomplish  my  destiny." 

"  And  forget  not  mine." 

"  Can  they  ever  be  separated  ?  " 

"  Never,"  exclaimed  Marie,  passionately,  "  but  by 
death." 

"  Alas,  I  fear  absence  still  more,"  said  Cinq-Mars. 

"  Farewell !  1  tremble  ;  farewell !  "  repeated  the  be- 
loved voice,  and  the  window  was  slowly  drawn  down, 
the  joined  hands  not  .parting  till  the  latest  instant. 

The  black  courser  had  all  the  while  been  pawing  the 
earth,  and  tossing  back  his  noble  head  with  impatience. 
Cinq-Mars,  as  agitated  and  restless  as  his  horse,  gave  it 
the  rein ;  and  the  whole  party  was  speedily  under  the 
walls  of  Tours.  To  the  infinite  discomfiture  of  old 
Grandehamp,  Cinq-Mars  would  not  enter  the  town,  but 
proceeded  on  his  way,  and  five  days  after  entered  with 
his  escort  the  old  city  of  Loudun  in  Poitou,  after  a 
journey  without  incident. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   STREET. 

Je  m'avan^ais  d'un  pas  penible  et  mal  assure  vers  le  but  de  ce 
convoi  tragique.  —  NODIER,  Smarra. 

THE  reign  a  few  years  of  which  we  are  about  to  paint  — 
a  reign  of  feebleness,  which  was,  as  it  were,  an  eclipse 
of  the  crown  between  Henri  IV.  and  Louis  le  Grand  — 
afflicts  the  eyes  which  contemplate  it  with  more  than 
one  dark  stain  of  blood,  and  these  not  all  the  work  of 
one  man,  but  participated  in  by  great  and  grave  bodies. 
It  is  melancholy  to  observe  in  this  age,  still  full  of  dis- 
order, that  the  clergy,  like  a  nation,  had  its  populace,  as 
it  had  its  nobility,  its  ignorant  and  its  criminal  prelates, 
as  well  as  its  learned  and  virtuous  prelates.  Since  that 
period,  its  remnant  of  barbarism  has  been  refined  away 
by  the  long  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  its  corruptions 
washed  out  in  the  blood  of  the  martyrs  whom  it  offered 
up  to  the  revolution  of  1793. 

We  felt  it  necessary  to  pause  for  a  moment  to  ex- 


30  CINQ-MARS. 

press  this  reflection  ere  we  entered  upon  the  recital  of 
the  facts  presented  by  the  history  of  the  period,  and 
to  intimate  that  notwithstanding  this  consolatory  re- 
flection, we  have  found  it  incumbent  upon  us  to  pass 
over  many  details  too  odious  to  occupy  a  place  in  our 
pages,  groaning  but  too  heavily  in  spirit  at  those  guilty 
acts  which  it  was  necessary  to  give,  as  in  relating  the 
life  of  a  virtuous  old  man,  we  should  lament  over  the 
impetuosities  of  his  passion-led  youth,  or  over  the  cor- 
rupt tendencies  of  his  riper  age. 

When  the  cavalcade  entered  the  narrow  streets  of 
Loudun,  they  heard  unusual  noises  all  around  them. 
The  streets  themselves  were  filled  with  agitated  masses ; 
the  bells  of  the  church  and  of  the  convent  were  ringing 
furiously,  as  though  they  were  warning  one-half  the 
town  that  the  other  half  was  in  flames ;  and  the  whole 
population,  without  paying  the  least  attention  to  the 
travellers,  was  pressing  tumultuously  towards  a  large 
edifice  that  adjoined  the  church.  Here  and  there  large 
crowds  were  collected  together,  listening  in  silence  to 
some  voice  that  seemed  raised  in  exhortation,  or  engaged 
in  emphatic  reading ;  anon,  furious  cries,  mingled  with 
pious  exclamations,  would  arise  from  the  crowd,  which, 
then  dispersing,  showed  the  travellers  that  the  orator 
was  some  Capuchin  or  Franciscan  friar,  who,  a  wooden 
crucifix  in  one  hand,  with  the  other  pointed  to  the 
large  building  which  was  attracting  such  universal 
interest. 

"  Jesu  Maria !  "  exclaimed  an  old  woman,  '•  who  could 
ever  have  thought  that  the  Evil  Spirit  would  choose  our 
old  town  for  his  abode  ?  " 


THE  STREET.  31 

"Ay,  or  that  the  pious  Ursulines  should  be  pos- 
sessed ?  "  said  another. 

"  They  say  that  the  demon  who  torments  the  superior 
is  called  Legion,"  cried  a  third. 

"  One,  say  you  ? "  interrupted  a  nun ;  "  there  were 
seven  in  her  poor  body,  whereunto,  doubtless,  she  had 
attached  too  much  importance,  by  reason  of  its  great 
beauty,  though  now  't  is  but  the  receptacle  of  evil  spirits. 
The  prior  of  the  Carmelites  yesterday  expelled  the  demon 
Eazas  through  her  mouth ;  and  the  reverend  Father 
Lactantius  has  driven  out  in  like  manner  the  demon 
Beherit.  But  the  other  five  have  refused  to  stir,  and 
when  the  holy  exorcists,  (whom  Heaven  support !)  sum- 
moned them  in  Latin  to  withdraw,  they  replied  inso- 
lently that  they  would  not  go  till  they  had  thoroughly 
given  proof  of  their  power,  to  the  conviction  even  of 
the  Huguenots  and  heretics,  who,  misbelieving  wretches, 
seem  to  doubt  it.  The  demon  Elimi,  the  worst  of  them 
all,  as  you  know,  has  threatened  to  take  off  M.  de  Lau- 
bardemont's  calotte  to-day,  and  dangle  it  in  the  air  at 
Miserere" 

"  Holy  Virgin ! "  rejoined  the  first  speaker,  "  I'm  all 
of  a  tremble  as  it  is !  And  to  think  that  I've  over 
and  over  again  got  this  magician  Urbain  to  say 
masses  for  me  !  " 

"Ay,"  exclaimed  a  girl,  crossing  herself;  "  and  I  who 
confessed  to  him  ten  months  ago!  No  doubt  in  the 
world  I  should  have  been  possessed  myself,  but  for 
the  relic  of  Saint  Genevieve  I  luckily  had  about  me, 
and  —  " 

"  Luckily,  indeed,  Martine,"  interposed  a  fat  gossip ; 


32  CINQ-MARS. 

"  for,  no  offence,  you,  as  I  remember,  were  long  enough 
with  the  handsome  sorcerer." 

"  Pshaw ! "  laughingly  said  a  young  soldier,  who  had 
joined  the  group,  smoking  his  pipe,  "  there  was  no  luck 
in  the  matter ;  only,  you  see,  pretty  Martine  was  dis- 
possessed a  month  ago." 

The  girl  hlushed,  and  drew  the  hood  of  her  black 
cloak  over  her  face.  The  elder  gossips  cast  a  glance  of 
indignation  at  the  reckless  trooper,  and  finding  them- 
selves now  close  to  the  door  of  the  building,  and  thus 
sure  of  making  their  way  in  among  the  first  when  it 
should  be  thrown  open,  sat  down  upon  the  stone  bench  at 
the  side,  and  by  an  interchange  of  the  latest  wonders, 
raised  the  expectations  of  all  as  to  the  delight  they 
were  about  to  have  in  being  spectators  of  something 
marvellous,  —  an  apparition,  perhaps,  but  at  the  very 
least,  an  administration  of  the  torture. 

"  Is  it  true,  Aunt,"  asked  Martine  of  the  eldest  gossip, 
"  that  you  have  heard  the  demons  speak  ?  " 

"  Ay,  child,  true  as  I  see  you ;  there  are  many  and 
many  can  say  the  same ;  and  't  was  to  convince  you 
of  it  I  brought  you  with  me  here,  that  you  may  see  the 
power  of  the  Evil  One,  and  be  edified." 

"What  voice  has  he?"  continued  the  girl,  glad  to 
encourage  a  conversation  which  diverted  from  herself 
the  invidious  attention  procured  her  by  the  soldier's 
raillery. 

"  Oh,  he  speaks  with  the  voice  of  the  superior  herself, 
to  whom  our  Lady  be  gracious  !  Poor  young  woman  ! 
I  was  with  her  yesterday  a  long  time ;  't  was  wretched 
to  see  her  writhing  about  and  tearing  herself  and  turn- 


THE  STREET.  33 

ing  her  arms  and  her  legs  first  one  way  and  then  an- 
other, and  then,  all  of  a  sudden,  twisting  them  together 
behind  her  back.  When  the  holy  Father  Lactantius 
pronounced  the  name  of  Urbain  Grandier,  the  foam 
came  out  of  her  mouth,  and  she  talked  Latin  for  all  the 
world  as  though  she  were  reading  the  Bible.  Of  course, 
I  did  not  understand  what  she  said,  and  all  I  can  re- 
member of  it  now  is,  '  Urbanus  Magicus  rosas  diabolica,' 
which  they  tell  me  means  that  the  magician  Urbain  had 
bewitched  her  with  some  roses  the  Devil  had  given 
him ;  and  so  it  must  have  been,  for  while  Father  Lac- 
tantius spoke,  there  came  out  of  her  ears  and  neck  a 
quantity  of  flame-colored  roses,  all  smelling  of  sulphur 
so  strongly  that  the  judge-advocate  called  out  for  every 
one  present  to  stop  their  noses  and  eyes,  for  that  the 
demons  were  about  to  come  out." 

"  Ah,  look  ye  there  now ! "  exclaimed  with  shrill 
voices  and  a  triumphant  air  the  whole  bevy  of  assem- 
bled women,  turning  towards  the  crowd,  and  more 
particularly  towards  a  group  of  men  attired  in  black, 
among  whom  was  standing  the  young  soldier  who  had 
just  before  so  unceremoniously  jested  with  Martine. 

"  Hear  the  noisy  old  idiots  !  "  exclaimed  the  soldier. 
"  They  think  they  're  at  the  Sabbat ;  but  I  don't  see  their 
broomsticks." 

"  Young  man,  young  man  ! "  said  a  citizen,  with  a 
mournful  air,  "  jest  not  upon  such  subjects  in  the  open 
air,  or  in  such  a  time  as  this,  the  wind  of  Heaven  may 
become  gushing  flames  and  devour  you." 

"  Bah !  a  fig  for  your  exorcists !  "  returned  the  soldier ; 
"  my  name  's  Grand-Ferre",  and  I  've  got  here  a 

VOL.  I. 3 


34  CINQ-MARS. 

better  spirit-sprinkler  than  the  whole  set  of  you  can 
produce." 

And  significantly  grasping  the  handle  of  his  rapier  in 
one  hand,  with  the  other  he  turned  up  his  light-brown 
mustache,  as  he  looked  fiercely  around ;  but  meeting 
no  glance  which  returned  the  defiance  of  his  own,  he 
slowly  withdrew,  left  foot  foremost,  and  sauntered  along 
the  dark  narrow  streets  with  all  the  reckless  noncha- 
lance of  a  young  soldier  who  has  just  donned  his  uni- 
form, and  true  military  contempt  for  all  who  wear  not 
the  cloth. 

Meantime  some  eight  or  ten  of  the  more  considerable 
and  more  rational  inhabitants  of  the  town  traversed  in 
a  body,  slowly  and  silently,  the  agitated  throng ;  they 
seemed  overwhelmed  with  painful  amazement  at  the  agi- 
tation and  excitement  they  witnessed  in  every  direction, 
and  as  each  new  instance  of  the  popular  frenzy  pre- 
sented itself,  they  interchanged  glances  of  wonder  and 
apprehension.  Their  mute  depression  communicated  its 
uneasiness  to  the  working  people,  and  to  the  peasants 
who  had  flocked  in  crowds  from  the  adjacent  country, 
and  who  all  sought  a  direction  for  their  opinions  in  the 
countenances  of  the  principal  townsmen,  also  for  the 
most  part  proprietors  of  the  surrounding  districts;  they 
saw  there  that  something  calamitous  was  on  foot,  and 
resorted  accordingly  to  the  only  remedy  open  to  the 
ignorant  and  the  beguiled,  apathetic  resignation. 

Yet  there  is  in  the  character  of  the  French  peasant  a 
certain  scoffing  finesse  of  which  he  makes  effective  use, 
sometimes  with  his  equals,  and  almost  invariably  with 
his  superiors.  He  puts  questions  to  power  as  embar- 


THE  STREET.  35 

rassing  as  are  those  which  infancy  puts  to  mature  age. 
He  affects  the  very  excess  of  humility,  in  order  to  con- 
fuse him  whom  he  addresses  with  the  very  height  of  his 
isolated  elevation.  He  aggravates  the  awkwardness  of 
his  manner  and  the  rudeness  of  his  expressions,  as  a 
means  of  covering  his  real  thoughts  under  the  appear- 
ance of  mere  uncouthness ;  yet,  despite  all  his  self- 
command,  there  is  something  in  his  air,  certain  fierce 
contortions  of  countenance,  which  betray  him  to  the 
close  observer,  who  discerns  in  his  sardonic  smile,  and 
the  marked  emphasis  with  which  he  leans  on  his  long 
staff,  the  hopes  that  secretly  nourish  his  soul,  and  the 
aid  upon  which  he  ultimately  relies. 

One  of  the  most  venerable  of  the  peasants  whom  we 
have  indicated  came  vigorously  on,  followed  by  ten  or 
twelve  young  men,  his  sons  and  nephews,  all  wearing 
the  broad-brimmed  hat  and  the  blue  frock  or  blouse  of 
the  ancient  Gauls,  which  the  peasants  of  France  still 
wear  over  their  other  garments,  as  peculiarly  adapted  to 
their  humid  climate  and  their  laborious  habits. 

When  the  old  man  had  made  his  way  to  the  group  of 
personages  of  whom  we  have  just  spoken,  he  took  off  his 
hat,  —  an  example  immediately  followed  by  his  whole 
family,  —  and  showed  a  face  darkened  with  exposure  to 
the  weather,  a  forehead  bald  and  wrinkled  with  age,  and 
long  white  hair  hanging  behind.  His  shoulders  were 
bent  with  years  and  labor,  but  he  was  still  a  hale  and 
sturdy  man.  He  was  received  with  an  air  of  welcome 
and  even  of  respect  by  one  of  the  gravest  of  the  grave 
group  he  had  approached,  who,  without,  however,  un- 
covering, extended  to  him  his  hand. 


36  CINQ-MARS. 

"  What !  good  Father  Guillaume  Leroux  ! "  said  he, 
"  and  have  you  too  left  our  farm  of  La  Chena'ie  to  visit 
the  town,  when  it 's  not  market  day  ?  Why,  't  is  as 
though  your  oxen  were  to  unharness  themselves  and  go 
a  hunting,  quitting  their  work  to  see  a  poor  hare  run 
down  ! " 

"Faith,  M.  le  Comte  du  Lude,"  replied  the  farmer, 
"  for  that  matter,  sometimes  the  hare  runs  into  our  way 
of  itself ;  but,  in  truth,  I  've  got  a  notion  that  some  of 
the  people  here  want  to  make  fools  of  us,  and  so  I  've 
come  to  see  the  rights  of  it." 

"  Enough  of  that,  my  friend,"  returned  the  comte ; 
"  here  is  M.  Fournier,  the  advocate,  who  assuredly  will 
not  deceive  you,  for  he  resigned  his  office  of  attorney- 
general  last  night  that  he  might  henceforth  devote  his 
eloquence  to  the  service  of  his  own  noble  thoughts.  You 
will  hear  him,  perhaps,  to-day,  though  truly,  I  dread  his 
appearing  for  his  own  sake  as  much  as  I  desire  it  for 
that  of  the  accused." 

"  I  care  not  for  myself,"  said  Fournier ;  "  truth  is  with 
me  a  passion,  and  I  would  have  it  inculcated  in  all  times 
and  all  places." 

He  that  spoke  was  a  young  man,  whose  face,  pallid  in 
the  extreme,  was  full  of  the  noblest  expression.  His 
blond  hair,  his  light-blue  eyes,  his  thinness,  the  delicacy 
of  his  frame  made  him  at  first  sight  seem  younger 
than  he  was;  but  his  thoughtful  and  earnest  counte- 
nance indicated  that  mental  superiority  and  that  preco- 
cious maturity  of  the  soul  which  are  developed  by  deep 
study  in  youth,  combined  with  natural  energy  of  char- 
acter. He  was  attired  wholly  in  black,  with  a  short 


THE  STREET.  37 

cloak  in  the  fashion  of  the  times,  and  carried  under  his 
left  arm  a  roll  of  papers,  which,  when  speaking,  he  would 
take  in  the  right  hand  and  grasp  convulsively,  as  a  war- 
rior in  his  anger  grasps  the  pommel  of  his  sword.  At 
one  moment  it  seemed  as  though  he  were  about  to  un- 
furl the  scroll,  and  from  it  hurl  lightning  upon  those 
whom  he  pursued  with  looks  of  fiery  indignation,  —  three 
Capuchins  and  a  Franciscan,  who  had  passed  by. 

"Pere  Guillaume,"  pursued  M.  du  Lude,  "how  is  it 
you  have  brought  with  you  only  your  sons,  and  they 
armed  with  their  staves  ?  " 

"Faith,  sir,  I  have  no  desire  that  our  girls  should 
learn  to  dance  of  the  nuns ;  and,  moreover,  just  now  the 
lads  with  their  staves  may  bestir  themselves  to  better 
purpose  than  their  sisters  would." 

"  Take  my  advice,  my  old  friend,"  said  the  comte, 
"  and  don't  bestir  yourselves  at  all ;  rather  stand  quietly 
aside  to  view  the  procession  which  you  see  approaching, 
and  remember  that  you  are  seventy." 

"  Ah,  ah ! "  murmured  the  old  man,  drawing  up  his 
twelve  sons  in  double  rank,  soldier-fashion,  "  I  fought 
under  good  King  Henriot,  and  can  play  at  sword  and 
pistol  as  well  as  the  worthy  ligueurs ;  "  and  shaking 
his  head  he  leaned  against  a  post,  his  knotty  staff  be- 
tween his  crossed  legs,  his  hands  clasped  on  its  thick 
butt-end,  and  his  white  bearded  chin  resting  on  his 
hands.  Then,  half  closing  his  eyes,  he  seemed  ab- 
sorbed in  recollections  of  his  early  life. 

The  bystanders  observed  with  interest  his  dress, 
striped  in  the  fashion  of  Henri  IV.,  and  his  resemblance 
to  the  Be*arnese  monarch  in  the  latter  years  of  his  life, 


38  CINQ-MARS. 

though  the  king's  hair  had  been  prevented  by  the  assas- 
sin's stroke  from  acquiring  the  whiteness  which  that  of 
the  old  peasant  had  placidly  attained.  A  furious  peal- 
ing of  the  bells,  however,  attracted  the  general  attention 
to  the  end  of  the  great  street,  down  which  was  seen  filing 
a  long  procession,  whose  banners  and  glittering  pikes 
rose  above  the  heads  of  the  crowd,  which  successively 
and  in  silence  opened  a  way  for  the  at  once  absurd  and 
awful  train. 

First,  two  and  two,  came  a  body  of  archers,  with 
pointed  beards  and  large  plumed  hats,  armed  with  long 
halberds,  who,  ranging  in  a  single  file  on  each  side  of 
the  centre  of  the  street,  formed  an  avenue  along  which 
marched  in  solemn  order  a  procession  of  Gray  Peni- 
tents, —  men  attired  in  a  long  gray  robe,  the  hood  of 
which  entirely  covered  the  head,  a  mask  of  the  same 
stuff  terminating  below  the  chin  in  a  point,  like  a  beard, 
having  merely  three  holes  in  it  for  the  eyes  and  nose. 
Even  at  the  present  day  we  see  these  costumes  at  fu- 
nerals, more  especially  in  the  Pyrenees.  The  Penitents 
of  Loudun  carried  enormous  wax  candles,  and  their 
slow,  uniform  movement,  and  their  eyes,  which  seemed 
to  glitter  under  their  masks,  gave  them  the  appearance 
of  phantoms. 

The  people  expressed  their  various  feelings  in  an 
undertone :  — 

u  There  's  many  a  knave  hid  under  those  masks,"  said 
a  citizen. 

"  Ay,  and  with  a  face  uglier  than  the  mask  itself," 
added  a  young  man. 

"  They  make  me  afraid,"  tremulously  exclaimed  a  girl. 


THE  STREET.  39 

"  I  'm  only  afraid  for  my  purse,"  said  the  first  speaker. 

"  Ah,  Jesu !  there  are  our  holy  brethren,  the  Peni- 
tents," cried  an  old  woman,  throwing  back  her  hood,  the 
better  to  look  at  them.  "  See  you  the  banner  they  bear  ? 
Ah,  neighbors,  't  is  a  joyful  thing  to  have  it  among  us  ! 
Beyond  a  doubt  it  will  save  us;  see,  it  shows  the  Devil 
in  flames,  and  a  monk  fastening  a  chain  round  his  neck 
to  keep  him  there.  Ah,  here  come  the  judges,  - —  worthy 
gentlemen  !  dear  gentlemen  !  Look  at  their  red  robes  ; 
how  beautiful !  Blessed  be  the  Virgin,  they  've  been 
well  chosen ! " 

"  Every  man  of  them  a  personal  enemy  of  the  cure," 
whispered  the  Comte  du  Lude  to  the  advocate  Fournier, 
who  took  a  note  of  the  information. 

"Don't  you  know  them,  neighbors?"  pursued  the 
shrill,  sharp  voice  of  the  old  woman,  as  she  cuffed  one 
and  pinched  another  of  those  about  her  to  attract  their 
attention  to  the  objects  of  her  admiration  ;  "  see,  there's 
excellent  M.  Mignon,  whispering  to  Messieurs  the  Coun- 
sellors of  the  court  of  Poitiers ;  Heaven's  blessings  on 
them  all,  say  I !  " 

"  Ay,  there  are  Roatin,  Richard,  and  Chevalier,  — 
the  very  men  who  tried  to  have  him  dismissed  a  year 
ago,"  continued  M.  du  Lude,  in  undertones,  to  the 
young  advocate,  who,  surrounded  and  hidden  from  pub- 
lic observation  by  the  group  of  dark -clad  citizens,  was 
writing  down  his  observations  in  a  note-book  under 
his  cloak. 

"  Here ;  look,  look ! "  screamed  the  old  woman. 
"  Make  way  !  here  's  M.  Barre,  the  Cure"  of  St.  Jacques 
at  Chinon." 


40  CIA'Q-MARS. 

"  A  saint !  "  murmured  one  bystander. 

"  A  hypocrite  ! "  exclaimed  a  manly  voice. 

"  See  how  thin  he  is  with  fasting ! " 

"  Sec  how  pale  he  is  with  remorse  !  " 

"  He  's  the  man  to  drive  away  devils ! " 

"  Ay,  but  not  till  he 's  quite  done  with  them  for  his 
own  purposes." 

The  dialogue  was  interrupted  by  the  general  exclama- 
tion, "  How  beautiful  she  is  !  " 

The  superior  of  the  Ursulines  advanced,  followed  by 
all  her  nuns.  Her  white  veil  was  raised ;  in  order  that 
the  people  might  witness  the  features  of  the  possessed 
ones,  it  had  been  ordered  that  it  should  be  thus  with  her 
and  six  of  the  sisterhood.  Her  attire  had  no  distin- 
guishing feature,  except  an  immense  rosary  extending 
from  her  neck  nearly  to  her  feet,  and  from  which  hung 
a  gold  cross  ;  but  the  dazzling  pallor  of  her  face,  ren- 
dered still  more  conspicuous  by  the  dark  hue  of  her 
capuchon,  at  once  fixed  the  general  regard  upon  her. 
Her  brilliant  dark  eyes,  which  bore  the  impress  of  some 
deep  and  burning  passion,  were  crowned  with  brows  so 
perfectly  arched  that  Nature  herself  seemed  to  have 
taken  as  much  pains  to  form  them  as  the  Circassian 
women  to  mark  out  theirs  with  artistic  pencilling ;  but 
between  them  a  slight  fold  revealed  the  powerful  agita- 
tion within.  In  her  movements,  however,  and  through- 
out her  whole  bearing,  she  affected  an  entire  calm;  her 
steps  were  slow  and  cadenced,  and  her  beautiful  hands 
were  crossed  on  her  bosom,  as  white  and  motionless  as 
those  of  the  marble  statues  joined  in  eternal  prayer  in 
monumental  sculptures. 


THE  STREET.  41 

"  See,  Aunt,"  ejaculated  Martine  ;  "  see  how  Sister 
Agnes  and  Sister  Claire  are  weeping,  next  to  the 
superior ! " 

"  Ay,  Niece,  they  weep  because  they  are  the  prey  of 
the  demon." 

"  Or  rather,"  interposed  the  same  manly  voice  we  have 
already  heard,  "  because  they  repent  them  of  having 
mocked  Heaven." 

A  profound  silence  now  pervaded  the  assembled  mul- 
titude ;  riot  a  word  was  heard,  not  a  movement,  scarcely 
a  breath.  Every  one  seemed  paralyzed  by  some  sudden 
enchantment,  when,  following  the  nuns,  between  four 
Penitents  who  held  him  in  chains,  appeared  the  cure*  of 
the  church  of  Ste.  Croix,  attired  in  his  pastor's  robe. 
His  was  a  noble,  fine  face,  with  grandeur  of  mind  in  its 
whole  expression,  and  gentleness  in  every  feature ;  af- 
fecting no  scornful  indifference  to  his  position,  he  looked 
calmly  and  kindly  around,  as  though  he  sought  on  his 
dark  way  the  affectionate  glances  of  those  who  loved 
him.  Nor  did  he  seek  in  vain  ;  ever  and  anon  he  en- 
countered those  glances,  and  joyfully  returned  them. 
Nay,  more,  he  heard  sobs,  and  he  saw  hands  extended 
towards  him,  —  hands,  many  of  which  grasped  weapons. 
But  no  gesture  of  his  encouraged  these  mute  offers  of 
physical  aid ;  he  would  lower  his  eyes  to  the  ground, 
and  wend  on,  careful  not  to  compromise  those  who  so 
trusted  in  him,  or  to  involve  them  in  the  contagion  of 
his  own  misfortunes.  This  was  Urbain  Grandier. 

Suddenly  the  procession  stopped,  at  a  signal  from  the 
man  who  brought  up  its  van,  and  who  seemed  to  com- 
mand its  movements.  He  was  tall,  meagre,  pale  ;  his 


42  CINQ-MARS. 

dross  was  a  long  black  robe,  with  a  cap  of  the  same 
material  and  color ;  he  had  the  face  of  a  Don  Basilio, 
with  the  eye  of  Nero.  He  motioned  the  guards  to 
surround  him  more  closely,  when  he  saw  with  affright 
the  dark  group  we  have  mentioned,  and  the  strong- 
limbed  and  resolute  peasants  who  seemed  in  attendance 
upon  them.  Then  placing  himself  somewhat  in  advance 
of  the  canons  and  Capuchins  who  were  with  him,  he 
pronounced  in  a  shrill  voice  this  singular  decree  : 

"  We,  Sieur  de  Laubardemont,  referendan',  being  dele- 
gated and  invested  with  discretionary  power  in  the  matter  of 
the  trial  of  the  magician  Urbain  Grandier  upon  the  various 
articles  of  accusation  brought  against  him,  assisted  herein 
by  the  reverend  Fathers  Mignon,  canon,  Barre,  cure  of  St. 
Jacques  at  Chinon,  Father  Lactantius,  and  all  the  other 
judges  appointed  to  try  the  said  magician,  have  preliminarily 
decreed  as  follows :  Primo,  the  factitious  assembly  of  pro- 
prietors, noble-citizens  of  this  town  and  its  environs,  is  dis- 
solved, as  tending  to  a  popular  sedition  ;  its  proceedings  are 
declared  null,  and  its  letter  to  the  king,  against  us  the 
judges,  which  has  been  intercepted,  shall  be  publicly  burned 
in  the  market-place  as  calumniating  the  good  Ursulines  and 
the  reverend  fathers  and  judges.  Secundo,  it  is  forbidden  to 
say,  publicly  or  in  private,  that  the  said  nuns  are  not  pos- 
sessed by  the  Evil  Spirit,  or  to  doubt  of  the  power  of  the 
exorcists,  under  pain  of  a  fine  of  twenty  thousand  livres,  and 
corporal  punishment. 

"  Let  the  bailiffs  and  sheriffs  obe}r  this.  Given  the  18th 
of  June,  in  the  year  of  grace  1639." 

Ere  he  had  well  finished  reading  the  decree,  the 
discordant  clang  of  trumpets,  bursting  forth  at  a  pre- 
concerted signal,  drowned,  to  a  certain  extent,  the 


THE  STREET.  43 

murmurs  that  followed  its  proclamation,  and  amid 
which  Laubardemorit  urged  forward  the  procession, 
which  precipitately  entered  the  great  building  already 
referred  to,  —  an  ancient  convent,  whose  interior  having 
crumbled  away,  its  walls  now  formed  one  vast  hall, 
well  adapted  for  the  purpose  to  which  it  was  about  to 
be  applied.  Laubardemont  did  not  deem  himself  safe 
until  he  was  within  the  building  and  had  heard  the 
heavy  double  doors  creak  on  their  hinges  as,  closing, 
they  excluded  the  furious  crowd  without. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   GOOD   PRIEST. 
L'homme  de  paix  me  parla  ainsi.  —  VICAIRE  SAVOYARD. 

Now  that  the  diabolical  procession  is  in  the  arena  des- 
tined for  its  spectacle,  and  is  arranging  its  gloomy  and 
sanguinary  representation,  let  us"  inquire  what  Cinq- 
Mars  had  been  doing  amid  the  agitated  crowd.  He 
was  endowed  by  nature  with  great  tact,  and  felt  that 
it  would  be  no  easy  matter  for  him  to  attain  the  object 
he  had  in  view,  of  seeing  the  Abbe  Quillet,  at  a  time 
when  the  excitement  of  men's  minds  was  at  its  height. 
He  therefore  remained  on  horseback  with  his  four 
domestics  in  a  small  and  very  dark  street  that  led 
into  the  main  street,  from  which  he  could  easily  see  all 
that  passed.  No  one  at  first  paid  any  attention  to  him; 
but  when  public  curiosity  had  no  other  aliment,  he 
became  an  object  of  general  observation.  Weary  of  so 
many  scenes  of  excitement,  the  inhabitants  looked  upon 
him  with  some  exasperation,  and  half  aloud  inquired 


THE  GOOD  PRIEST.  45 

of  one  another  whether  this  was  another  exorcist  come 
among  them.  Feeling  that  it  was  time  to  take  a  decided 
course,  he  advanced  with  his  attendants,  hat  in  hand, 
towards  the  group  in  black  of  whom  we  have  spoken, 
and  addressing  him  who  appeared  its  most  distinguished 
member,  said, "  Sir,  where  can  I  find  M.  l'Abb<$  Quillet?" 

At  this  name,  all  around  regarded  him  with  an  air 
of  terror,  as  though  he  had  pronounced  that  of  Lucifer. 
Yet  no  anger  was  exhibited  ;  on  the  contrary,  it  seemed 
that  the  question  had  operated  a  favorable  change  for 
him  in  the  minds  of  all  who  heard  him.  Moreover, 
chance  had  served  him  well  in  his  choice  ;  the  Comte 
du  Lude  came  up  to  his  horse,  and  saluting  him,  said, 
"  Dismount,  sir,  and  I  will  give  you  some  useful  infor- 
mation regarding  him." 

After  having  spoken  a  while  in  whispers,  the  two  gen- 
tlemen separated  with  all  the  ceremonious  politeness  of 
the  period.  Cinq-Mars  remounted  his  black  horse,  and 
passing  through  numerous  narrow  streets,  was  soon  out 
of  the  crowd  with  his  retinue. 

"  How  happy  I  am  !  "  he  soliloquized,  as  he  proceeded 
on  his  way  ;  "  I  shall,  at  all  events,  for  a  moment  see 
the  good  and  kind  minister  who  brought  me  up ;  even 
now  I  seem  to  have  before  me  his  features,  his  calm  air, 
his  voice  so  full  of  benevolence." 

As  these  thoughts  ran  through  his  mind,  he  found 
himself  in  the  small  and  very  dark  street  which  had 
been  indicated  to  him  ;  it  was  so  narrow  that  the  knee- 
pieces  of  his  boots  touched  the  wall  on  either  side.  At 
the  end  of  the  street  he  came  to  a  wooden  house  of  one 
story,  and  in  his  eagerness  knocked  with  repeated  strokes. 


46  CINQ-MARS. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  cried  a  furious  voice  within  ;  and  at 
the  same  moment,  the  door  opening  exhibited  a  little 
man,  very  short,  very  stout,  and  with  a  very  red  face, 
attired  in  a  black  suit,  with  an  immense  white  ruff  and 
riding-boots  which  engulfed  his  short  legs  in  their  vast 
depths.  In  his  hands  were  a  pair  of  horse  pistols. 

"•  I  will  sell  my  life  dearly ! "  he  cried  ;  "  and  —  " 

"  Softly,  Abbe",  softly,"  said  his  pupil,  taking  his  arm ; 
"  we  are  friends." 

"  Ah,  my  son,  is  it  you  ?  "  said  the  worthy  man,  let- 
ting fall  his  pistols,  which  were  picked  up  by  a  domes- 
tic, also  armed  to  the  teeth.  "  What  do  you  here  ? 
The  abomination  has  entered  the  town,  and  I  only  await 
the  night  to  depart  hence.  Make  haste  in,  my  dear 
boy,  with  your  people  ;  I  took  you  for  the  archers  of 
Laubardemont,  and,  i'  faith,  I  was  going  to  take  a  part 
somewhat  out  of  my  line.  You  see  the  horses  in  the 
courtyard  there  ;  they  will  convey  me  to  Italy,  where 
I  shall  rejoin  our  friend,  the  Due  de  Bouillon.  Jean ! 
Jean  !  hasten  and  close  the  great  gate  after  these  brave 
domestics,  and  recommend  them  not  to  make  too  much 
noise,  although  for  that  matter  we  have  no  habitation 
near  us." 

Grandchamp  obeyed  the  intrepid  little  abbe,  who  then 
embraced  Cinq-Mars  four  consecutive  times,  raising  him- 
self on  the  points  of  his  boots,  so  as  to  attain  the  middle 
of  his  pupil's  breast.  He  then  hurried  him  into  a  small 
room,  which  looked  like  a  deserted  granary ;  and  seat- 
ing him  beside  himself  upon  a  black  leather  trunk,  he 
said  with  earnestness, — 

"  Well,  my  son,  whither  go  you  ?     How  came  Madame 


THE  GOOD  PRIEST.  47 

la  Mare'chale  to  let  you  come  here  ?  See  you  not  what 
they  are  doing  against  an  unhappy  man,  whose  death 
alone  will  content  them  ?  Alas,  merciful  Heaven  !  was 
this  the  first  spectacle  my  dear  pupil  was  to  have  before 
him  ?  And  you  at  that  delightful  period  of  life  when 
friendship,  love,  confidence,  should  alone  encompass 
you ;  when  all  around  you  should  be  of  a  nature  to  give 
you  a  favorable  opinion  of  your  species,  at  your  very 
entry  into  the  great  world  !  How  unfortunate !  alas, 
why  are  you  come  ?  " 

When  the  good  abbe  had  followed  up  this  lamenta- 
tion by  affectionately  pressing  both  hands  of  the  young 
traveller  in  his  own,  so  red  and  wrinkled,  the  latter  at 
length  answered, — 

"  Can  you  not  guess,  my  dear  abbe,  that  I  came  to 
Loudun  because  you  were  here  ?  As  to  the  spectacle 
you  speak  of,  it  appears  to  me  simply  ridiculous ;  and  1 
vow  to  you  that  I  do  not  a  whit  the  less  on  its  account 
love  that  human  race  of  which  your  virtues  and  your 
good  lessons  have  given  me  an  excellent  idea.  As  to  the 
five  or  six  mad  women  who  —  " 

"  Let  us  not  lose  time  ;  I  will  tell  you  all  about  that 
matter ;  but  answer  me,  whither  go  you,  and  for  what  ? " 

"  I  am  going  to  Perpignan,  where  the  cardinal-due  is 
to  present  me  to  the  king." 

At  this  the  worthy  but  hasty  abbe*  rose  from  his  box, 
and  walked,  or  rather  ran,  up  and  down  the  room,  stamp- 
ing. "  The  cardinal  !  the  cardinal  !  "  he  repeated, 
almost  choking,  his  face  becoming  scarlet,  and  the 
tears  rising  to  his  eyes  ;  "  poor  child  !  they  will  destroy 
him!  Ah,  mon  Dieu!  what  part  would  they  have  him 


48  CINQ-MARS. 

play  there.  What  would  they  with  him  ?  Ah,  who  will 
protect  thee,  my  son,  in  that  dangerous  place?"  con- 
tinued he,  reseating  himself,  and  again  taking  his 
pupil's  hands  in  his  own  with  a  paternal  solicitude,  as 
he  endeavored  to  read  his  thoughts  in  his  countenance. 

"  Why,  I  do  not  exactly  know,"  said  Cinq-Mars,  look- 
ing up  at  the  ceiling;  "but  I  suppose  it  will  be  the 
Cardinal  de  Richelieu,  who  was  the  friend  of  my  father." 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Henri,  you  make  me  tremble ;  he  will 
ruin  you  unless  you  become  his  docile  instrument. 
Alas,  why  cannot  I  go  with  you  ?  Why  must  I  act  the 
young  man  of  twenty  in  this  unfortunate  affair  ?  Alas, 
I  should  be  perilous  to  you ;  I  must,  on  the  contrary, 
conceal  myself.  But  you  will  have  M.  de  Thou  near 
you,  my  son,  will  you  not  ? "  said  he,  trying  to  reas- 
sure himself ;  "  he  was  your  friend  in  childhood,  though 
somewhat  older  than  yourself.  Heed  his  counsels,  my 
child,  he  is  a  wise  young  man ;  he  is  a  man  of  mature 
reflection,  and  of  solid  ideas." 

"  Oh,  yes,  my  dear  abbe",  you  may  depend  upon  my 
tender  attachment  for  him  ;  I  have  never  ceased  to  love 
him." 

" But  you  have  ceased  to  write  to  him,  have  you  not?" 
asked  the  good  abbe",  half  smilingly. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  dear  abbe*,  I  wrote  to  him 
once,  and  again  yesterday,  to  inform  him  that  the  car- 
dinal has  invited  me  to  court." 

"  How !  has  he  himself  desired  your  presence  ?" 

Cinq-Mars  hereupon  showed  the  letter  of  the  cardinal- 
due  to  his  mother,  and  his  old  tutor  grew  gradually 
more  tranquil. 


THE  GOOD  PRIEST.  49 

"  Come,  come ! "  said  he  to  himself,  "  this  is  not  so 
bad,  perhaps,  after  all.  It  looks  promising;  a  captain 
of  the  guards  at  twenty,  —  that  sounds  well ! "  and  the 
worthy  abba's  face  actually  became  all  smiles. 

The  young  man,  delighted  to  see  these  smiles,  which 
so  harmonized  with  his  own  thoughts,  fell  upon  the  neck 
of  the  abb£  and  embraced  him,  as  though  he  had  thus 
assured  to  him  a  futurity  of  pleasure,  glory,  and  love. 

But  the  good  abbe",  with  difficulty  disengaging  himself 
from  this  warm  embrace,  resumed  his  walk  and  his  re- 
flections and  his  gravity.  He  often  hemmed  and  shook 
his  head ;  and  Cinq-Mars,  not  venturing  to  pursue  the 
conversation,  followed  him  with  his  eyes,  and  became 
sad  as  he  saw  him  become  serious. 

The  old  man  at  last  sat  down,  and  in  a  mournful  tone 
addressed  his  pupil  thus :  — 

"  My  friend,  my  son,  I  have  for  a  moment  yielded  like 
a  father  to  your  hopes ;  but  I  must  tell  you,  and  it  is 
not  to  afflict  you,  that  they  appear  to  me  excessive  and 
unnatural.  If  the  cardinal's  sole  aim  were  to  show  at- 
tachment and  gratitude  towards  your  family,  he  would 
not  have  carried  his  favors  so  far ;  no,  the  extreme  prob- 
ability is  that  he  has  designs  upon  you.  From  what 
has  been  told  him  he  thinks  you  adapted  to  play  some 
part,  as  yet  impossible  for  us  to  divine,  but  which  he 
himself  has  traced  out  in  the  deepest  recesses  of  his 
mind.  He  would  educate  you  up  for  this ;  he  would  drill 
you  into  it.  Allow  me  the  expression  in  consideration 
of  its  accuracy,  and  think  seriously  of  it  when  the  time 
shall  come.  But  still  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  as 
matters  are  you  had  better  follow  up  this  vein  in  the 

VOL.  I.  — 4 


50  CINQ-MARS. 

great  mine  of  State  ;  it  is  thus  that  high  fortunes  have 
begun.  You  must  only  take  heed  not  to  be  blinded  and 
led  at  will.  Let  not  favors  make  you  giddy,  my  poor 
child,  and  let  not  elevation  turn  your  head.  Be  not  so 
indignant  at  the  suggestion  ;  the  thing  has  happened  to 
older  men  than  yourself.  Write  to  me  often,  as  well  as 
to  your  mother ;  see  M.  de  Thou,  and  we  will  together 
try  to  keep  you  in  good  counsel.  Now,  my  son,  be  good 
enough  to  close  that  window  through  which  the  wind 
comes  upon  my  head,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  has  been 
going  on  here." 

Henri,  trusting  that  the  moral  part  of  the  discourse 
was  over,  and  anticipating  nothing  in  the  second  part 
but  a  narrative  more  or  less  interesting,  closed  the  old 
casement,  festooned  with  cobwebs,  and  resumed  his  seat 
without  speaking. 

"  Now  that  I  reflect  further,"  continued  the  abbe*,  "  I 
think  it  will  not  perhaps  be  unprofitable  for  you  to  have 
passed  through  this  place,  although  it  be  a  sad  expe- 
rience you  shall  have  acquired ;  but  it  will  supply  what 
I  may  not  have  formerly  told  you  of  the  wickedness  of 
men.  I  hope,  moreover,  that  the  result  will  not  be  fatal, 
and  that  the  letter  we  have  written  to  the  king  will 
arrive  in  time." 

"  I  heard  that  it  had  been  intercepted,"  interposed 
Cinq-Mars. 

"  Then  all  is  over,"  said  the  Abb6  Quillet ;  "  the  cur£ 
is  lost.  But  listen.  God  forbid,  my  son,  that  I,  your 
old  tutor,  should  seek  to  assail  my  own  work,  and  at- 
tempt to  weaken  your  faith !  Preserve  ever  and  every- 
where that  simple  creed  of  which  your  noble  family  has 


THE  GOOD  PRIEST.  51 

given  you  the  example,  which  our  fathers  possessed  in  a 
still  higher  degree  than  we,  and  of  which  the  greatest 
captains  of  our  time  are  not  ashamed.  Always  while 
you  wear  a  sword,  remember  that  you  hold  it  for  the 
service  of  God.  But  at  the  same  time,  when  you  are 
among  men,  avoid  being  deceived  by  the  hypocrite.  He 
will  encompass  you,  my  son;  he  will  assail  you  on  the 
vulnerable  side  of  your  ingenuous  heart,  in  addressing 
your  religion ;  and  seeing  the  extravagancy  of  his  af- 
fected zeal,  you  will  fancy  yourself  lukewarm  as  com- 
pared with  him.  You  will  think  that  your  conscience 
cries  out  against  you ;  but  it  will  not  be  the  voice  of 
conscience  that  you  hear.  And  what  cries  would  not 
that  conscience  send  forth,  how  fiercely  would  it  not 
rise  upon  you,  did  you  contribute  to  the  destruction  of 
innocence  by  invoking  Heaven  itself  as  a  false  witness 
against  it?" 

"  Oh,  my  father !  can  such  things  be  possible  ? " 
exclaimed  Henri  d'Effiat,  clasping  his  hands. 

"  It  is  but  too  true,"  continued  the  abbd ;  "  you  saw 
the  execution  of  it  in  part  this  morning.  God  grant 
you  may  not  witness  still  greater  horrors  !  But  listen  ; 
whatever  you  may  see  here,  whatever  crime  they  dare 
to  commit,  I  conjure  you,  in  the  name  of  your  mother 
and  of  all  that  you  hold  dear,  utter  not  a  word;  make 
not  a  gesture  that  may  indicate  any  opinion  whatever 
upon  the  affair.  I  know  the  impetuous  character  that 
you  derive  from  the  mare'chal  your  father;  curb  it, 
or  you  are  lost.  These  little  ebullitions  of  passion  pro- 
cure but  slight  satisfaction,  and  bring  about  great  mis- 
fortunes. I  have  observed  you  give  way  to  them  too 


52  CINQ-MARS. 

much.  Oh,  did  you  but  know  the  advantage  that  a  calm 
temper  gives  one  over  men !  The  ancients  stamped  it 
on  the  forehead  of  the  divinity  as  his  finest  attribute, 
since  it  shows  that  he  is  superior  to  our  fears  and  to  our 
hopes,  to  our  pleasures  and  to  our  pains.  Therefore,  my 
dear  child,  remain  passive  in  the  scenes  you  are  about 
to  witness ;  but  see  them  you  must.  Be  present  at  this 
sad  trial ;  for  me,  I  must  suffer  the  consequences  of  my 
school-boy  folly.  I  will  relate  it  to  you ;  it  will  prove  to 
you  that  with  a  bald  head  one  may  be  as  much  a  child 
as  with  your  fine  chestnut  curls." 
•  And  the  excellent  old  abbe",  taking  his  pupil's  head 
affectionately  between  his  hands,  continued  as  follows : 

"  Like  other  people,  my  dear  son,  I  was  curious  to  see 
the  devils  of  the  Ursulines ;  and  knowing  that  they  pro- 
fessed to  speak  all  languages,  I  had  the  imprudence  to 
leave  the  Latin  tongue  and  question  them  in  Greek.  The 
superior  is  very  pretty,  but  she  does  not  know  Greek. 
Duncan,  the  physician,  observed  aloud  that  it  was  sur- 
prising that  the  demon,  who  knew  everything,  should 
commit  barbarisms  and  solecisms  in  Latin,  and  not  be 
able  to  answer  in  Greek.  The  young  superior,  who  was 
then  upon  her  show-bed,  turned  towards  the  wall  to 
weep  and  said  in  an  undertone  to  Father  Barre",  'I  can- 
not go  on  with  this,  sir.'  I  repeated  these  words  aloud, 
and  infuriated  all  the  exorcists ;  they  cried  out  that  I 
ought  to  know  that  there  are  demons  more  ignorant 
than  peasants,  and  said  that  as  to  their  power  and  physi- 
cal strength,  it  could  not  be  doubted,  since  the  spirits 
named  Gre"sil  des  Trones,  Aman  des  Puissance,  and 
Asmodeus,  had  promised  to  carry  off  the  calotte  of  M. 


THE  GOOD  PRIEST.  53 

de  Laubardemont.  They  were  preparing  for  this,  when 
the  physician  Duncan,  a  learned  and  upright  man,  but 
somewhat  of  a  scoffer,  took  it  into  his  head  to  pull 
a  cord  he  discovered  fastened  to  a  column  like  a  bell- 
rope,  and  which  hung  down  just  close  to  the  referen- 
dary's head ;  hereupon  they  called  him  Huguenot,  and 
I  am  satisfied  that  if  Mare"chal  de  Bre'ze'  were  not  his 
protector,  it  would  have  gone  ill  with  him.  The  Comte 
du  Lude  then  came  forward  with  his  customary  sang- 
froid, and  begged  the  exorcists  to  perform  before  him. 
Father  Lactantius,  the  Capuchin  with  the  dark  visage  and 
hard  look,  proceeded  with  Sister  Agnes  and  Sister  Claire  ; 
he  raised  both  his  hands,  looking  at  them  as  a  serpent 
would  look  at  two  doves,  and  cried  in  a  terrible  voice, 
'  Quis  te  misit,  Diabole?'  and  the  two  sisters  answered, 
as  with  one  voice,  'Urbanus.'  He  was  about  to  continue, 
when  M.  du  Lude,  taking  out  of  his  pocket  with  an  air 
of  veneration  a  small  gold  box,  said  that  he  had  in  it  a 
relic  left  by  his  ancestors,  and  that  though  not  doubting 
the  fact  of  the  possession,  he  wished  to  test  it.  Father 
Lactantius  seized  the  box  with  delight,  and  scarcely  had 
he  touched  the  foreheads  of  the  two  sisters  with  it  than 
the}7  made  immense  leaps  and  twisted  about  their  hands 
and  feet.  Lactantius  shouted  forth  his  exorcisms  ;  Barre 
threw  himself  upon  his  knees  with  all  the  old  women ; 
and  Mignon  and  the  judges  applauded.  The  impassible 
Laubardemont  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  (without  being 
struck  dead  for  it!).  When  M.  du  Lude  took  back  his 
box  the  nuns  became  still.  '  I  think,'  said  Lactantius, 
insolently, '  that  you  will  not  question  your  relics  now.' 
'No  more  than  I  do  the  possession,'  answered  M.  du 


54  CINQ-MARS. 

Ludc,  opening  his  box  and  showing  that  it  was  empty. 
'  Sir,  you  mock  us,'  said  Lactantius.  I  was  indignant  at 
these  mummeries,  and  said  to  him,  *  Yes,  sir,  as  you 
mock  God  and  men.'  And  this,  my  dear  friend,  is  why 
you  see  me  in  my  seven-league  boots,  so  heavy  and  so 
big  that  they  hurt  my  legs,  and  with  long  pistols ;  for 
our  friend  Laubardemont  has  ordered  my  person  to  be 
seized,  and  I  don't  choose  it  to  be  seized,  old  as  it  is." 

"  What,  is  he  so  powerful,  then  ? "  cried  Cinq-Mars. 

"  More  so  than  is  supposed,  —  more  so  than  could 
be  believed.  I  know  that  the  possessed  abbess  is  his 
niece,  and  that  he  is  provided  with  an  order  in  council 
directing  him  to  judge,  without  being  deterred  by  any 
appeals  lodged  in  parliament,  the  cardinal  having  pro- 
hibited the  latter  from  taking  cognizance  of  the  matter 
of  Urbain  Grandier." 

"  And  what  are  his  offences  ? "  asked  the  young  man, 
already  deeply  interested. 

"  Those  of  a  strong  mind  and  of  a  superior  genius,  an 
inflexible  will  which  has  irritated  power  against  him, 
and  a  profound  passion  which  has  driven  his  heart  and 
him  to  commit  the  only  mortal  sin  with  which  I  believe 
he  can  be  reproached  ;  and  it  was  only  by  violating  the 
sanctity  of  his  private  papers,  which  they  tore  from 
Jeanne  d'Estie~vre,  his  mother,  an  old  woman  of  eighty, 
that  they  discovered  his  love  for  the  beautiful  Madeleine 
de  Brou.  This  girl  had  refused  to  marry,  and  wished  to 
take  the  veil.  May  that  veil  have  concealed  from  her 
the  spectacle  of  this  day  !  The  eloquence  of  Grandier 
and  his  angelic  beauty  drove  the  women  half  mad ; 
they  came  miles  and  miles  to  hear  him.  I  have  seen 


THE   GOOD  PRIEST.  55 

them  faint  during  his  sermons;  they  declared  him  an 
angel,  and  touched  his  garment  and  kissed  his  hands 
when  he  descended  from  the  pulpit.  It  is  certain  that 
unless  it  be  his  beauty,  nothing  could  equal  the  sub- 
limity of  his  discourses,  ever  full  of  inspiration.  The 
pure  honey  of  the  gospel  combined  on  his  lips  with  the 
flashing  flame  of  the  prophecies  ;  and  one  recognized  in 
the  sound  of  his  voice  a  heart  overflowing  with  holy 
pity  for  the  evils  to  which  mankind  are  subject,  and 
swollen  with  tears,  ready  to  flow  forth  for  us." 

The  good  priest  paused,  for  he  himself  had  his  voice 
and  his  eyes  swollen  with  tears  ;  his  round  and  naturally 
joyous  face  was  more  touching  than  a  graver  one  under 
the  same  circumstances,  for  it  seemed  as  though  it  bade 
defiance  to  sadness.  Cinq-Mars,  even  still  more  moved, 
pressed  his  hand  without  speaking,  fearful  of  interrupt- 
ing him.  The  abbe  took  out  a  red  handkerchief,  wiped 
his  eyes,  and  continued,  — 

"  This  is  the  second  attack  upon  Urbain  by  his  com- 
bined foes.  He  had  already  been  accused  of  bewitching 
the  nuns  ;  but  examined  by  holy  prelates,  by  enlight- 
ened magistrates,  and  learned  physicians,  he  was  imme- 
diately acquitted,  and  the  judges  indignantly  imposed  si- 
lence upon  these  demons  of  human  construction.  The 
good  and  pious  Archbishop  of  Bordeaux,  who  had  him- 
self chosen  the  examiners  of  these  pretended  exor- 
cists, drove  the  prophets  away  and  shut  up  their  hell. 
But  humiliated  by  the  publicity  of  the  result,  annoyed 
at  seeing  Grandier  well  received  by  our  good  king  when 
he  cast  himself  at  his  feet  at  Paris,  they  saw  that  if 
he  triumphed  they  were  lost,  and  would  be  universally 


56  CINQ-MARS, 

regarded  as  impostors ;  already  the  convent  of  the  Ursu- 
lines  was  looked  upon  only  as  a  theatre  for  disgraceful 
comedies,  and  the  nuns  themselves  as  shameless  actresses. 
More  than  a  hundred  persons,  furious  against  the  curd, 
had  compromised  themselves  in  the  hope  of  destroying 
him.  Their  plot,  instead  of  being  abandoned,  has  gained 
strength  by  its  first  check ;  and  here  are  the  means  that 
have  been  set  to  work  by  his  implacable  enemies. 

"  Do  you  know  a  man  called  L 'Eminence  Grrise,  that 
formidable  Capuchin  whom  the  cardinal  employs  in  all 
things,  consults  upon  some,  and  despises  invariably  ?  It 
was  to  him  that  the  Capuchins  of  Loudun  addressed 
themselves.  A  woman  of  this  place,  of  low  birth, 
named  Hamon,  having  been  so  fortunate  as  to  please 
the  queen  when  she  passed  through  Loudun,  was  taken 
into  her  service.  You  know  the  hatred  that  separates 
her  court  from  that  of  the  cardinal ;  you  know  that 
Anne  of  Austria  and  M.  de  Richelieu  have  for  some 
time  disputed  for  the  king's  favor,  and  that,  of  her  two 
suns,  France  never  knew  in  the  evening  which  would 
rise  next  morning.  During  a  momentary  eclipse  of 
the  cardinal, -a  satire  appeared,  issuing  from  the  plan- 
etary system  of  the  queen  ;  it  was  called,  La  cordon- 
niere  de  'la  reine-mere.  Its  tone  and  language  were 
vulgar;  but  it  contained  things  so  insulting  about  the 
birth  and  person  of  the  cardinal  that  the  enemies  of 
the  minister  took  it  up  and  gave  it  a  publicity  which 
irritated  him.  There  were  revealed  in  it,  it  is  said, 
many  intrigues  and  mysteries  which  he  had  deemed  im- 
penetrable. He  read  this  anonymous  work,  and  de- 
sired to  know  its  author.  It  was  just  at  this  time  that 


THE  GOOD  PRIEST.  57 

the  Capuchins  of  this  town  wrote  to  Father  Joseph 
that  a  constant  correspondence  between  Grandier  and 
La  Hamon  left  no  doubt  in  their  minds  as  to  his  being 
the  author  of  this  diatribe.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  had 
previously  published  religious  books,  prayers,  and  medi- 
tations, the  style  of  which  alone  ought  to  have  absolved 
him  from  having  put  his  hand  to  a  libel  written  in  the 
language  of  the  market-place ;  the  cardinal,  long  since 
prejudiced  against  Urbain,  was  determined  to  fix  him  as 
the  culprit.  He  was  reminded  that  when  he  was  only 
prior  of  Coussay,  Grandier  disputed  precedence  with  him 
and  gained  it ;  I  fear  this  achievement  of  precedence  in 
life  will  make  poor  Grandier  precede  the  cardinal  in 
death  also." 

A  melancholy  smile  played  upon  the  lips  of  the  good 
abb£  as  he  uttered  this  involuntary  pun. 

"  What !  do  you  think  this  matter  will  go  so  far  as 
death  ? " 

"  Ay,  my  son,  even  to  death  ;  they  have  already  taken 
away  all  the  documents  connected  with  his  former  abso- 
lution that  might  have  served  for  his  defence,  despite 
the  opposition  of  his  poor  mother,  who  preserved  them 
as  her  son's  license  to  live.  Even  now  they  affect  to 
regard  a  work  against  the  celibacy  of  priests,  found 
among  his  papers,  as  destined  to  propagate  schism. 
It  is  a  culpable  production,  doubtless,  and  the  love 
which  dictated  it,  however  pure  it  may  be,  is  an  enor- 
mous sin  in  a  man  consecrated  to  God  alone ;  but  this 
poor  priest  was  far  from  wishing  to  encourage  heresy, 
and  it  was  simply,  they  say,  to  appease  the  remorse  of 
Mademoiselle  de  Brou  that  he  composed  the  work.  It 


58  CINQ-MARS. 

was  so  evident  that  his  real  faults  would  not  suffice 
to  condemn  him  to  death  that  they  have  revived  the 
accusation  of  sorcery,  long  since  disposed  of  ;  but  feign- 
ing to  believe  which,  the  cardinal  has  established  a  new 
tribunal  in  this  town,  and  has  placed  Laubardcmont  at 
its  head,  —  a  sure  sign  of  death.  Heaven  grant  that  you 
never  become  acquainted  with  what  the  corruption  of 
governments  call  coups-d'etat !  " 

At  this  moment  a  terrible  shriek  sounded  from  beyond 
the  wall  of  the  courtyard ;  the  abb6  arose  in  terror,  as 
did  Cinq-Mars. 

"  It  is  the  cry  of  a  woman,"  said  the  old  man. 

"Tis  heart-rending!"  exclaimed  Cinq-Mars.  "What 
hear  you  ?"  he  asked  his  people,  who  had  all  rushed  out 
into  the  courtyard. 

They  answered  that  they  heard  nothing  further. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  abbe",  "  make  no  noise."  He 
then  shut  the  window,  and  put  his  hands  before  his 
eyes. 

"  Ah,  what  a  cry  was  that,  my  son !  "  he  said,  with 
his  face  of  an  ashy  paleness, —  "  what  a  cry  !  It  pierced 
my  very  soul ;  some  calamity  has  happened.  Ah,  holy 
Virgin  !  it  has  so  agitated  me  that  I  can  talk  with  you 
no  more.  Why  did  I  hear  it,  just  as  I  was  speaking  to 
you  of  your  future  career  ?  My  dear  child,  may  God 
bless  you !  Kneel." 

Cinq-Mars  did  as  he  was  desired,  and  knew  by  a  kiss 
upon  his  head  he  had  been  blessed  by  the  old  man,  who 
then  raised  him  up,  saying,— 

"  Go,  my  son,  the  time  is  advancing ;  they  might  find 
you  with  me.  Go,  leave  your  people  and  horses  here  ; 


THE  GOOD  PRIEST.  59 

wrap  yourself  in  a  cloak,  and  go.  I  have  much  to  write 
ere  the  hour  when  darkness  shall  allow  me  to  depart  for 
Italy." 

They  embraced  once  more,  promising  to  write  to  each 
other,  and  Henri  quitted  the  house.  The  abbs',  still  fol- 
lowing him  with  his  eyes  from  the  window,  cried, — 

"  Be  prudent,  whatever  may  happen,"  and  sent  him 
with  his  hands  one  more  paternal  blessing,  saying, 
"  Poor  child  !  poor  child !  " 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   TRIAL. 

1 11  speak  to  it,  though  hell  itself  should  gape. 

SHAKSPEAEE. 

NOTWITHSTANDING  the  usage  of  secret  trials,  then  freely 
countenanced  by  Richelieu,  the  judges  of  the  Cure*  of 
Loudun  had  resolved  that  the  court  should  be  open  to 
the  public  ;  but  they  soon  repented  this  measure.  They 
were  all  interested  in  the  destruction  of  Urbain  Gran- 
dier  ;  but  they  desired  that  the  indignation  of  the  country 
should  in  some  degree  sanction  the  sentence  of  death 
they  had  received  orders  to  pass  and  to  carry  into  effect. 
Laubardemont  was  a  kind  of  bird  of  prey,  whom  the 
cardinal  always  let  loose  when  he  required  a  prompt 
and  sure  agent  for  his  vengeance ;  and  on  this  occasion 
he  fully  justified  the  choice  that  had  been  made  of  him. 
He  committed  but  one  error,  —  that  of  allowing  a  pub- 
lic trial,  contrary  to  the  prevalent  usage  ;  his  object  had 
been  to  intimidate  and  to  dismay.  He  dismayed,  indeed, 
but  he  also  created  a  feeling  of  indignant  horror. 


THE   TRIAL.  61 

The  crowd  whom  we  left  outside  the  gates  had  waited 
there  for  two  hours,  during  which  time  the  sound  of 
hammers  indicated  that  within  the  great  hall  they  were 
hastily  completing  their  mysterious  preparations.  At 
length  the  archers  laboriously  turned  the  heavy  gates 
opening  into  the  street  upon  their  hinges,  and  the  crowd 
eagerly  rushed  in.  The  young  Cinq-Mars  was  carried 
in  with  the  second  enormous  wave,  and,  placed  behind 
a  thick  column,  stood  there,  so  as  to  be  able  to  see  with- 
out being  seen.  He  observed  with  vexation  that  the 
dark  group  of  citizens  was  near  him ;  but  the  great 
gates,  closing,  left  the  part  of  the  court  where  the  people 
stood  in  such  darkness  that  there  was  no  likelihood  of 
his  being  recognized.  Although  it  was  only  midday,  the 
hall  was  lighted  with  flambeaux  ;  but  they  were  nearly 
all  placed  at  the  farther  end,  where  rose  the  judges' 
bench  behind  a  long  table.  The  chairs,  tables,  steps, 
were  all  covered  with  black  cloth,  and  cast  a  livid  hue 
over  the  faces  of  those  near  them.  A  seat  reserved 
for  the  prisoner  was  placed  upon  the  left,  and  on  the 
crape  robe  which  covered  him  flames  were  represented 
in  gold  embroidery  to  indicate  the  nature  of  the  offence. 
Here  sat  the  accused,  surrounded  by  archers  and  his 
hands  still  bound  in  chains,  held  by  two  monks,  who, 
with  simulated  terror,  affected  to  start  from  him  at  his 
slightest  motion,  as  though  they  held  in  bonds  a  tiger 
or  enraged  wolf,  or  as  though  the  flames  depicted  on 
his  robe  could  communicate  themselves  to  their  cloth- 
ing. They  also  carefully  kept  his  face  from  .being  seen 
by  the  people. 

The  impassible  countenance  of  M.  de  Laubardemont 


62  CINQ-MARS. 

was  there  to  dominate  the  judges  of  his  choice  ;  almost 
a  head  taller  than  any  of  them,  he  was  placed  upon  a 
scat  more  elevated  than  theirs,  and  each  of  his  glassy 
and  uneasy  glances  seemed  to  convey  an  order  to  them. 
He  wore  a  long,  full  scarlet  robe,  and  a  black  cap  cov- 
ered his  head ;  he  seemed  occupied  in  arranging  papers, 
which  he  then  passed  to  the  judges.  The  accusers,  all 
of  them  ecclesiastics,  sat  on  the  right  hand  of  the 
judges  ;  they  wore  their  albs  and  stoles.  Father  Lac- 
tantius  was  distinguishable  among  them  by  his  simple 
Capuchin  habit,  his  tonsure,  and  the  extreme  hardness 
of  his  features.  In  a  side  gallery  sat  the  Bishop  of  Poi- 
tiers, hidden  from  view  ;  other  galleries  were  filled  with 
veiled  women.  Below  the  bench  of  judges,  a  number  of 
men  and  women,  the  dregs  of  the  populace,  stood  behind 
six  young  Ursuline  nuns,  who  seemed  full  of  disgust  at 
their  proximity  ;  these  were  the  witnesses. 

The  rest  of  the  hall  was  occupied  with  an  immense 
crowd  of  people,  gloomy  and  silent,  clinging  to  the 
arches,  the  gates,  and  the  beams,  and  full  of  a  terror 
which  communicated  itself  to  the  judges,  for  it  arose 
from  an  interest  in  the  accused.  Numerous  archers, 
armed  with  long  pikes,  formed,  as  it  were,  the  frame  — 
a  worthy  one  —  of  this  lugubrious  picture. 

At  a  sign  from  the  president,  the  witnesses  withdrew 
through  a  narrow  door  opened  for  them  by  an  usher. 
As  she  passed  M.  de  Laubardemont,  the  superior  of  the 
Ursulines  was  seen  to  advance,  and  heard  to  say  to  him, 
"  You  have  deceived  me,  sir."  He  remained  immov- 
able, and  she  went  on.  A  profound  silence  reigned 
throughout  the  whole  assembly. 


THE   TRIAL,  63 

Rising  with  all  the  gravity  he  could  assume,  but  still 
with  visible  agitation,  one  of  the  judges,  named  Hou- 
main,  judge-advocate  of  Orleans,  read  a  sort  of  indict- 
ment in  a  voice  so  low  and  so  hoarse  that  it  was 
impossible  to  follow  it.  He  only  made  himself  heard 
when  what  he  had  to  say  was  calculated  to  impose  upon 
the  minds  of  the  people.  He  divided  the  evidence  into 
two  classes,  —  one,  the  depositions  of  seventy -two  wit- 
nesses ;  the  other,  more  convincing,  that  resulting  from 
"  the  exorcisms  of  the  reverend  fathers  here  present," 
said  he,  crossing  himself. 

Fathers  Lactantius,  Barre",  and  Mignon  bowed  low, 
repeating  the  sacred  sign. 

.  "  Yes,  my  lords,"  said  Houmain,  addressing  the 
judges,  " this  bouquet  of  white  -roses  and  this  manu- 
script, signed  with  the  blood  of  the  magician,  a  counter- 
part of  the  contract  he  has  made  with  Lucifer,  and  which 
he  was  obliged  to  carry  about  him  in  order  to  preserve 
his  power,  have  been  recognized  and  brought  before  you. 
We  read  with  horror  these  words  written  at  the  bottom 
of  the  parchment,  '  The  original  is  in  hell,  in  Lucifer's 
private  cabinet.'' " 

A  burst  of  laughter,  which  seemed  to  emanate  from 
stentorian  lungs,  was  heard  in  the  crowd.  The  presi- 
dent reddened,  and  made  a  sign  to  the  archers,  who  in 
vain  endeavored  to  discover  the  perturbator.  The  judge- 
advocate  continued :  — 

"  The  demons  have  been  forced  to  declare  theirnames 
by  the  mouths  of  their  victims.  Their  names  and  deeds 
are  deposited  upon  this  table  :  they  are  called  Astaroth, 
of  the  order  of  Seraphim  ;  Eazas,  Celsus,  Acaos,  Cedron, 


64  CINQ-MARS. 

Asmodeus,  of  the  order  of  Thrones ;  Alex,  Zebulon, 
Cham,  Uriel,  and  Achas,  of  the  order  of  Principali- 
ties, and  so  on,  for  their  number  is  infinite.  For  their 
actions,  who  among  us  has  not  been  a  witness  of 
them?" 

A  lengthened  murmur  arose  from  the  assembly,  but 
upon  some  halberdiers  advancing,  all  became  silent. 

"  We  have  seen  with  grief  the  young  and  respectable 
superior  of  the  Ursulines  tear  her  bosom  with  her  own 
hands  and  grovel  in  the  dust ;  we  have  seen  the  sisters, 
Agnes,  Claire,  and  others,  deviate  from  the  modesty  of 
their  sex  by  impassioned  gestures  and  unseemly  laugh- 
ter. When  impious  men  have  inclined  to  doubt  the 
presence  of  the  demons,  and  we  ourselves  felt  our  con- 
victions shaken,  because  they  refused  to  answer  to 
unknown  questions  in  Greek  or  Arabic,  the  reverend 
fathers  have,  to  establish  our  belief,  deigned  to  explain 
to  us  that  the  malignity  of  evil  spirits  being  extreme,  it 
was  not  surprising  that  they  should  feign  this  ignorance 
in  order  that  they  might  be  less  pressed  with  questions  ; 
and  that  in  their  answers  they  had  committed  various 
solecisms  and  other  grammatical  faults  in  order  to 
bring  contempt  upon  themselves,  so  that  out  of  this  dis- 
dain the  holy  doctors  might  leave  them  in  quiet.  Their 
hatred  is  so  inveterate  that  just  before  performing  one 
of  their  miraculous  feats,  they  suspended  a  rope  from  a 
beam  in  order  to  involve  the  reverend  personages  in  a 
suspicion  of  fraud,  whereas  it  has  been  deposed  on  oath 
by  credible  people  that  there  had  never  been  a  cord  in 
that  place. 

"  But,  my  Lords,  while  Heaven  was  thus  miraculously 


THE    TRIAL.  65 

explaining  itself  by  the  mouths  of  its  holy  interpreters, 
another  light  has  just  been  thrown  upon  us.  At  the  very 
time  the  judges  were  absorbed  in  profound  meditation, 
a  loud  cry  was  heard  near  the  hall  of  council ;  and  upon 
going  to  the  spot,  we  found  the  body  of  a  young  lady 
of  high  birth.  She  had  just  sent  forth  her  last  breath 
in  the  public  street,  in  the  arms  of  the  reverend  Father 
Mignon,  canon ;  and  we  have  learned  from  the  said 
father  here  present,  and  from  several  other  grave  per- 
sonages, that  suspecting  the  young  lady  to  be  possessed, 
by  reason  of  the  rumor  for  some  time  past  current  of 
the  admiration  Urbain  Grandier  had  for  her,  an  idea  of 
testing  it  happily  occurred  to  the  canon,  who  suddenly 
said,  approaching  her,  '  Grandier  has  just  been  put  to 
death,'  whereat  she  uttered  one  loud  scream  and  fell 
dead,  deprived  by  the  demon  of  the  time  necessary  for 
giving  her  the  assistance  of  our  holy  Mother,  the 
Catholic  Church." 

A  murmur  of  indignation  arose  from  the  crowd, 
among  whom  the  word  "  assassin  "  was  loudly  re-echoed ; 
the  halberdiers  commanded  silence  with  a  loud  voice, 
but  it  was  obtained  rather  by  the  judge  resuming  his 
address,  the  general  curiosity  triumphing. 

"  Oh,  infamy  !  "  he  continued,  seeking  to  fortify  him- 
self by  exclamations ;  "  upon  her  person  was  found 
this  work,  written  by  the  hand  of  Urbain  Grandier," 
and  he  took  from  among  his  papers  a  book  bound  in 
parchment. 

"  Heavens  !  "  cried  Urbain,  from  his  seat. 

"  Look  to  your  prisoner,"  cried  the  judge  to  the 
archers  who  surrounded  him. 

VOL.  I.  —  5 


66  CINQ-MARS. 

"  The  demon  doubtless  is  about  to  manifest  himself," 
said  Father  Lactantius,  in  a  sombre  voice  ;  "  tighten 
his  bonds."  He  was  obeyed. 

The  judge-advocate  continued.  "  Her  name  was  Ma- 
deleine de  Brou,  aged  nineteen." 

"  0  God  !  this  is  too  much  !  "  cried  the  accused,  as  he 
fell  senseless  on  the  ground. 

The  assembly  was  deeply  agitated ;  for  a  moment 
there  was  an  absolute  tumult. 

"  Poor  fellow !  he  loved  her,"  said  some. 

"  So  good  a  lady  !  "  cried  the  women. 

Pity  began  to  predominate.  Cold  water  was  thrown 
upon  Grandier,  without  his  being  taken  from  the  court, 
and  he  was  tied  to  his  seat.  The  judge-advocate  went 
on, — 

"  We  are  directed  to  read  the  beginning  of  this  book 
to  the  court,"  and  he  read  as  follows  :  — 

"  '  It  is  for  thee,  dear  and  gentle  Madeleine,  it  is  to  set  at 
rest  thy  troubled  conscience  that  I  have  described  in  this 
book  one  thought  of  my  soul.  All  those  thoughts  tend  to 
thee,  celestial  creature,  because  in  thee  they  return  to  the 
aim  and  object  of  my  whole  existence ;  but  the  thought  I 
send  thee,  as  't  were  a  flower,  conies  from  thee,  exists  only 
in  thee,  and  returns  to  thee  alone. 

"  '  Be  not  sad  because  thou  lovest  me ;  be  not  afflicted 
because  I  adore  thee.  The  angels  of  heaven,  what  is  it  that 
they  do?  The  souls  of  the  blessed,  what  is  it  that  is  prom- 
ised them?  Are  we  less  pure  than  the  angels?  Are  our 
souls  less  separated  from  the  earth  than  they  will  be  after 
death?  Oh,  Madeleine,  what  is  there  in  us  wherewith  the 
Lord  can  be  displeased?  Can  it  be  that  we  pra}'  together, 
that  with  faces  prostrate  in  the  dust  before  his  altars,  we 


THE   TRIAL.  67 

ask  for  early  death  to  take  us  while  yet  youth  and  love  are 
ours  ?  Or  that,  musing  together  beneath  the  funereal  trees 
of  the  churchyard,  we  yearned  for  one  grave,  smiling  at  the 
idea  of  death,  and  weeping  at  life?  Or  that,  when  thou 
kneelest  before  me  at  the  tribunal  of  penitence,  and  speaking 
in  the  presence  of  God,  thou  canst  find  nought  of  evil  to 
reveal  to  me,  so  wholly  have  I  kept  thy  soul  in  the  pure 
reo-ions  of  heaven?  What  then  could  offend  our  Creator? 

O 

Perhaps  —  3*es !  perhaps  some  spirit  of  heaven  may  have 
envied  me  my  happiness  when  on  Easter  day  I  saw  thee 
kneeling  before  me,  purified  by  long  austerities  from  the 
slight  stain  which  the  original  sin  had  left  in  thee !  Beau- 
tiful, indeed,  wert  thou!  Thy  glance  sought  thy  God  in 
heaven,  and  my  trembling  hand  held  his  image  to  thy  pure 
lips,  which  human  lip  had  never  dared  to  breathe  upon. 
Angelic  being !  I  alone  participated  in  the  secret  of  the 
Lord,  in  the  one  secret  of  the  entire  purity  of  thy  soul ;  I  it 
was  united  thee  to  thy  Creator,  who  at  that  moment  de- 
scended also  into  my  bosom.  Ineffable  espousals,  of  which 
the  Eternal  himself  was  the  priest,  you  alone  were  per- 
mitted between  the  virgin  and  her  pastor !  the  sole  joy  of 
each  was  to  see  eternal  happiness  commencing  for  the  other, 
to  inhale  together  the  perfumes  of  heaven,  to  drink  in  already 
the  harmony  of  the  spheres,  and  to  feel  assured  that  our 
souls,  unveiled  to  God  and  to  ourselves  alone,  were  worthy 
together  to  adore  him. 

"  '  What  scruple  still  weighs  upon  thy  soul,  O  my  sister? 
Dost  thou  think  I  have  offered  too  high  a  worship  to  thy 
virtue?  Fearest  thou  so  pure  an  admiration  should  deter 
me  from  that  of  the  Lord?'" 

Houmain  had  reached  this  point  when  the  door 
through  which  the  witnesses  had  withdrawn  suddenly 
opened.  The  judges  anxiously  whispered  together. 
Laubardemont,  uncertain  as  to  the  meaning  of  this, 


68  CINQ-MARS. 

signed  to  the  fathers  to  let  him  know  whether  this  was 
some  scene  executed  by  their  orders ;  but  seated  at 
some  distance  from  him,  and  themselves  taken  by  sur- 
prise, they  could  not  make  him  understand  that  they 
had  not  prepared  this  interruption.  Besides,  ere  they 
could  exchange  looks,  to  the  stupefaction  of  the  assem- 
bly, three  women,  en  chemise,  with  naked  feet,  each 
with  a  cord  round  her  neck  and  a  wax  taper  in  her 
hand,  came  through  the  door  and  advanced  to  the 
middle  of  the  platform.  It  was  the  superior  of  the 
Ursulines,  followed  by  Sisters  Agnes  and  Claire.  Both 
the  latter  were  weeping  ;  the  superior  was  very  pale, 
but  her  bearing  was  firm,  and  her  eyes  fixed  and  tear- 
less. She  knelt ;  her  companions  followed  her  example. 
Everything  was  in  such  utter  confusion  that  no  one 
thought  of  checking  them  ;  and  in  a  clear,  firm  voice 
she  pronounced  these  words,  which  resounded  in  every 
corner  of  the  hall :  — 

"  In  the  name  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  I,  Jeanne  de 
Belfiel,  daughter  of  the  Baron  de  Cose,  I,  the  unworthy 
superior  of  the  convent  of  the  Ursulines  of  Loudun,  ask 
pardon  of  God  and  man  for  the  crime  I  have  committed 
in  accusing  the  innocent  Urbain  Grandier.  My  posses- 
sion was  feigned,  my  words  dictated ;  remorse  over- 
whelms me." 

"  Bravo  !  "  cried  the  spectators,  clapping  their  hands. 
The  judges  arose ;  the  archers,  in  doubt,  looked  at  the 
president ;  he  shook  in  every  limb,  but  did  not  change 
countenance. 

"  Let  all  be  silent,"  he  said  in  a  sharp  voice ;  "  arch- 
ers, do  your  duty." 


THE   TRIAL.  69 

This  man  felt  himself  supported  by  so  a  strong  hand 
that  nothing  could  affright  him,  —  for  no  thought  of 
Heaven  ever  visited  him. 

"What  think  you,  my  fathers  2"  said  he,  making  a 
sign  to  the  monks. 

"  That  the  demon  seeks  to  save  his  friend.  —  Obmu- 
tesce,  Satanas ! "  cried  Father  Lactantius,  in  a  terrible 
voice,  affecting  to  exorcise  the  superior. 

Never  did  fire  applied  to  gunpowder  produce  an  effect 
more  instantaneous  than  did  these  two  words.  Jeanne 
de  Belfiel  started  up  in  all  the  beauty  of  twenty,  which 
her  awful  nudity  served  to  augment ;  she  seemed  a  soul 
escaped  from  hell  appearing  to  her  seducer.  With  her 
dark  eyes  she  cast  fierce  glances  upon  the  monks ; 
Lactantius  lowered  his  beneath  that  look.  She  took 
two  steps  towards  him  with  her  bare  feet,  beneath  which 
the  scaffolding  rung,  so  energetic  was  her  movement ; 
her  taper  seemed,  in  her  hand,  the  sword  of  the  aveng- 
ing angel. 

"  Silence,  impostor !  "  she  cried  with  warmth  ;  "  the 
demon  who  possessed  me  was  yourself.  You  deceived 
me ;  you  said  he  was  not  to  be  tried.  To-day,  for  the  first 
time,  I  know  that  he  is  to  be  tried ;  to-day,  for  the  first 
time,  I  know  that  he  is  to  be  murdered.  And  I  will 
speak ! " 

"  Woman,  the  demon  bewilders  thee." 

"  Say,  rather,  that  repentance  enlightens  me.  Daugh- 
ters, miserable  as  myself,  arise  ;  is  he  not  innocent  ?  " 

"  We  swear  he  is,"  said  the  two  young  lay  sisters, 
still  kneeling  and  weeping,  for  they  were  not  animated 
with  so  strong  a  resolution  as  that  of  the  superior. 


70  CINQ-MARS. 

Agnes  indeed  had  scarcely  uttered  these  words  than, 
turning  towards  the  people,  she  cried,  "  Help  me  !  they 
will  punish  me ;  they  will  kill  me ! "  And  hurrying 
away  her  companion,  she  threw  herself  into  the  crowd, 
who  affectionately  received  them.  A  thousand  voices 
swore  to  protect  them.  Imprecations  arose ;  the  men 
struck  their  staves  against  the  floor  ;  the  officials  dared 
not  prevent  the  people  from  passing  the  sisters  on  from 
arm  to  arm  into  the  street. 

During  this  strange  scene  the  amazed  and  panic- 
struck  judges  whispered,  M.  Laubardemont  looked  at 
the  archers,  indicating  to  them  the  points  they  were  es- 
pecially to  watch,  among  which,  more  particularly,  was 
that  occupied  by  the  group  in  black.  The  accusers 
looked  towards  the  gallery  of  the  Bishop  of  Poitiers,  but 
discovered  no  expression  in  his  apathetic  countenance. 
He  was  one  of  those  old  men  whom  death  appears  to 
take  possession  of  ten  years  before  all  motion  entirely 
ceases  in  them.  His  eyes  seemed  veiled  by  a  half  sleep ; 
his  gaping  mouth  mumbled  a  few  vague  and  habitual 
words  of  prayer  without  meaning  or  application  ;  the 
entire  amount  of  intelligence  he  retained  was  the  dis- 
tinguishing the  man  who  had  most  power,  and  him 
he  obeyed,  regardless  at  what  price.  He  had  accord- 
ingly signed  the  sentence  of  the  doctors  of  the  Sorbonne 
which  declared  the  nuns  possessed,  without  even  deduc- 
ing thence  the  consequence  of  the  death  of  Urbain ;  the 
rest  seemed  to  him  one  of  those  more  or  less  lengthy 
ceremonies,  to  which  he  paid  not  the  slightest  attention, 
—  accustomed  as  he  was  to  see  and  live  among  them, 
himself  an  indispensable  part  and  parcel  of  them.  He 


THE   TRIAL.  71 

therefore  gave  no  sign  of  life  on  this  occasion,  merely 
preserving  an  air  at  once  perfectly  noble  and  null. 

Meanwhile  Father  Lactantius,  Ijaving  had  a  moment 
to  recover  from  the  sudden  attack  made  upon  him, 
turned  towards  the  president  and  said. — 

"  Here  is  a  clear  proof,  sent  us  by  Heaven  of  the  pos- 
session, for  the  superior  has  never  before  forgotten  the 
modesty  and  severity  of  her  order." 

"  Would  that  all  the  world  were  here  to  see  me ! "  said 
Jeanne  de  Belfiel,  firm  as  ever.  "  I  cannot  be  suffi- 
ciently humiliated  upon  earth,  and  Heaven  will  reject 
me,  for  I  have  been  your  accomplice." 

The  perspiration  rolled  down  the  forehead  of  Lau- 
bardemont,  but  he  essayed  to  recover  his  composure. 
"  What  absurd  tale  is  this,  my  sister ;  what  has  influ- 
enced you  herein?" 

The  voice  of  the  girl  became  sepulchral ;  she  collected 
all  her  strength,  pressed  her  hand  upon  her  heart  as 
though  she  desired  to  stay  its  throbbing,  and  looking  at 
Urbain  Grandier,  answered,  "  Love." 

A  shudder  ran  through  the  assembly.  Urbain,  who 
since  he  had  fainted  had  remained  with  his  head  hang- 
ing down  as  if  dead,  slowly  raised  his  eyes  towards 
her,  and  returned  entirely  to  life  only  to  undergo  a  fresh 
sorrow.  The  young  penitent  continued, — 

"  Yes,  the  love  which  he  rejected,  which  he  never  fully 
knew,  which  I  have  breathed  in  his  discourses,  which 
my  eyes  drew  in  from  his  celestial  countenance,  which 
his  very  counsels  against  it  have  increased.  Yes,  Urbain 
is  pure  as  an  angel,  but  good  as  a  man  who  has  loved. 
I  knew  not  that  he  had  loved !  It  is  you,"  she  said, 


72  CINQ-MARS. 

more  energetically,  pointing  to  Lactantius,  Barre*,  and 
Mignon,  and  changing  her  passionate  accents  for  those  of 
indignation,  —  "it  is  you  who  told  me  that  he  loved; 
you,  who  this  morning  have  too  cruelly  avenged  me  by 
killing  my  rival  with  a  word.  Alas,  I  only  sought  to 
separate  them !  It  was  a  crime ;  but  by  my  mother  I 
am  an  Italian.  I  burned  with  love,  with  jealousy ;  you 
allowed  me  to  see  Urbain,  to  have  him  as  a  friend,  to 
see  him  daily."  She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  then  ex- 
claimed, "  People,  he  is  innocent !  Martyr,  pardon  me, 
I  embrace  thy  feet ! " 

She  prostrated  herself  before  Urbain  and  burst  into 
a  torrent  of  tears. 

Urbain  raised  his  closely-bound  hands,  and  giving  her 
his  benediction,  said  gently,  — 

"  Go,  my  sister ;  I  pardon  thee  in  the  name  of  him 
whom  I  shall  soon  see.  I  have  before  said  to  you,  and 
you  now  see,  the  passions  work  much  evil,  unless  we 
seek  to  turn  them  towards  heaven." 

The  color  a  second  time  rose  to  Laubardemont's  fore- 
head. "  Miscreant ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  darest  thou  pro- 
nounce the  words  of  the  Church  ? " 

"  I  have  not  quitted  her  bosom,"  said  Urbain. 

"  Remove  the  girl,"  said  the  president. 

When  the  archers  went  to  obey,  they  found  that  she 
had  tightened  the  cord  round  her  neck  with  such  force 
that  she  was  of  a  livid  hue  and  almost  lifeless.  Fear 
had  driven  all  the  women  from  the  assembly ;  many 
had  been  carried  out  fainting,  but  the  hall  was  no  less 
crowded.  The  ranks  thickened,  for  the  men  out  of  the 
street  poured  in. 


THE    TRIAL.  73 

The  judges  arose  in  terror,  and  the  president  at- 
tempted to  have  the  hall  cleared ;  but  the  people,  putting 
on  their  hats,  stood  in  alarming  immobility.  The  archers 
were  not  numerous  enough  to  repel  them.  It  became 
necessary  to  give  way;  and  accordingly  Laubardemont 
in  an  agitated  voice  announced  that  the  council  would 
retire  for  half  an  hour.  He  broke  up  the  sitting ;  the 
people  gloomily  remained,  each  man  firmly  fixed  to  his 
place. 


.CHAPTER  V. 

THE   MARTYRDOM. 

La  torture  iiiterroge,  et  la  donleur  repond. 

RAYNOUARD,  Les  Templiers. 

THE  continuous  interest  of  this  half-trial,  the  solemnity 
of  its  preparations,  its  interruptions,  everything  had  held 
the  minds  of  the  people  in  such  attention  that  no  pri- 
vate conversation  had  taken  place.  When,  however,  the 
people  were  left  to  themselves,  there  was,  as  it  were,  an 
explosion  of  clamorous  sentences. 

There  was  at  this  epoch  enough  of  primitive  simplic- 
ity among  the  lower  classes  for  them  to  be  persuaded 
by  the  mysterious  tales  of  the  political  agents  who  were 
playing  upon  them  ;  so  that  a  large  portion  of  the  crowd 
present  in  the  hall  of  trial,  not  venturing  to  revise  their 
judgment,  though  upon  the  manifest  evidence  just  af- 
forded them,  awaited  in  painful  suspense  the  return  of 
the  judges,  interchanging  with  an  air  of  mystery  and 
inane  importance  the  usual  remarks  dictated  on  such 
occasions  by  imbecility. 


THE  MARTYRDOM.  75 

"  One  does  not  know  what  to  think,  sir  ?" 

"  Truly,  Madame,  most  extraordinary  things." 

"  We  live  in  strange  times  ! " 

"  I  guessed  as  much ;  but,  i'  faith,  it  does  not  do  to 
say  what  one  thinks." 

"  We  shall  see  what  we  shall  see,"  and  so  on,  —  the 
unmeaningnesses  of  the  crowd,  which  merely  serve  to 
show  that  it  is  at  the  command  of  the  first  who  lays 
a  strong  hand  upon  it.  Much  more  emphatic  things 
were  heard  from  the  group  in  black. 

"  What !  shall  we  let  them  do  as  they  please,  in  this 
manner  ?  What !  dare  to  burn  our  letter  to  the  king !  " 

"  If  the  king  knew  it !  " 

"  The  barbarian  impostors  !  how  skilfully  is  their  plot 
contrived.  What !  shall  murder  be  committed  under  our 
very  eyes?  Shall  we  be  afraid  of  these  archers  ?" 

"  No,  no,  no !  " 

Attention  was  turned  towards  the  young  advocate, 
who,  standing  on  a  bench,  began  by  tearing  to  pieces  a 
roll  of  paper ;  then  raising  his  voice,  he  cried,  — 

"  Yes,  I  tear  and  scatter  to  the  winds  the  defence  I 
had  prepared  for  the  accused.  They  have  suppressed 
discussion ;  I  am  not  allowed  to  speak  for  him.  I  can 
only  speak  to  you,  people ;  I  rejoice  that  I  can  do  so. 
You  heard  these  infamous  judges.  Which  of  them  can 
hear  the  truth.  Which  of  them  is  worthy  to  listen  to  an 
honest  man  ?  Which  of  them  will  dare  to  look  him  in 
the  face  ?  Yet  what  do  I  say  ?  They  all  know  the  truth. 
They  carry  it  in  their  guilty  breasts ;  it  preys  upon  their 
hearts  like  a  serpent.  They  tremble  in  their  den,  where 
doubtless  they  are  devouring  their  prey ;  they  tremble 


T6  CINQ-MARS. 

because  they  have  heard  the  cries  of  three  misled  women. 
What  was  I  about  to  do  ?  I  was  about  to  speak  for 
Urbain  Grandier !  What  eloquence  could  equal  that 
of  these  unfortunates  ?  What  words  could  better  have 
shown  you  his  innocence  ?  Heaven  has  taken  up  arms 
for  him  in  bringing  these  to  repentance  and  to  devotion ; 
Heaven  will  finish  its  work  — " 

"Vade  retro,  Satanas,"  was  heard  through  a  high 
window  in  the  hall. 

Fournier  stopped  for  a  moment,  and  then  — 

"  You  hear  these  voices  parodying  the  divine  language  ? 
If  I  mistake  not,  these  instruments  of  an  infernal  power 
are,  by  this  song  of  theirs,  preparing  some  new  spell." 

"  But,"  cried  those  who  surrounded  him,  "  what  shall 
we  do  ?  What  have  they  done  with  him  ? " 

"  Remain  here ;  be  immovable,  be  silent,"  replied  the 
young  advocate.  "  The  inertia  of  a  people  is  all-power- 
ful ;  that  is  its  true  wisdom,  that  its  strength.  Look 
on  closely,  and  in  silence;  and  you  will  make  them 
tremble." 

"  They  surely  will  not  dare  to  show  themselves  again," 
said  the  Comte  du  Lude. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  another  look  at  the  tall  scoun- 
drel in  red,"  said  Grand-Ferre*,  who  had  lost  nothing  of 
what  passed. 

"  And  that  good  gentleman,  the  curd,"  murmured  old 
Father  Guillaume  Leroux,  looking  at  all  his  indignant 
children,  who  were  talking  together  in  a  low  tone,  meas- 
uring and  counting  the  archers,  ridiculing  their  dress, 
and  beginning  to  point  them  out  to  the  observation  of 
the  other  spectators. 


THE  MARTYRDOM.  77 

Cinq-Mars,  still  leaning  with  his  back  to  the  pillar 
behind  which  he  had  first  placed  himself,  still  enveloped 
in  his  black  cloak,  eagerly  watched  all  that  passed,  lost 
not  a  word  of  what  was  said,  and  filled  his  heart  with 
hate  and  bitterness.  Violent  desires  for  slaughter  and 
revenge,  an  indefinite  desire  to  strike,  took  possession  of 
him,  despite  himself ;  this  is  the  first  impression  which 
evil  produces  on  the  soul  of  a  young  man.  Afterwards 
sadness  takes  the  place  of  fury,  then  indifference  and 
scorn,  later  still,  a  selfish  admiration  for  the  great  vil- 
lains who  have  been  successful ;  but  this  is  only  when 
of  the  two  elements  which  constitute  man,  earth  gains 
the  day  over  the  spirit.  Meanwhile,  on  the  right  of  the 
hall  near  the  judges'  platform,  a  group  of  women  were 
attentively  regarding  a  child  of  about  eight  years  old, 
who  had  taken  it  into  his  head  to  climb  up  to  a  cornice 
by  the  aid  of  his  sister  Martine,  whom  we  have  seen 
jested  with  in  such  unmeasured  terms  by  the  young 
soldier,  Grand-Ferre*.  The  child,  having  nothing  to  look 
at  after  the  court  had  left  the  hall,  had  mounted  by 
means  of  his  hands  and  feet  to  a  small  window  which 
admitted  a  faint  light,  and  which  he  imagined  to  contain 
a  swallow's  nest  or  some  other  boyish  treasure ;  but 
when  he  was  well  established  with  his  feet  on  the  cor- 
nice of  the  wall,  and  his  hands  holding  on  by  the  bars  of 
an  old  shrine  of  Saint  Jerome,  he  wished  himself  any- 
where else,  and  cried  out, — 

"  Oh,  Sister,  Sister,  lend  me  your  hand  to  get  down ! " 

"  What  is  it  you  see  there  ?  "  asked  Martine. 

"  Oh,  I  dare  not  tell ;  but  I  want  to  get  down ; "  and 
he  began  to  cry. 


78  CINQ-MARS. 

"  Stay  there,  my  child ;  stay  there ! "  said  all  the 
women.  "  Don't  be  afraid ;  tell  us  all  that  you  see." 

"  Well,  then,  they  've  put  the  curd  between  two  great 
boards  that  squeeze  his  legs,  and  there  are  cords  round 
the  boards." 

"  Ah !  that  is  the  rack,"  said  one  of  the  townsmen. 
"Look,  my  little  friend,  what  do  you  see  now?" 

The  child,  more  confident,  looked  again  through  the 
window,  and  then  withdrawing  his  head,  said, — 

"  I  cannot  see  the  cure*  now,  because  all  the  judges 
stand  round  him,  and  are  looking  at  him,  and  their 
great  robes  prevent  me  from  seeing.  There  are  also 
some  Capuchins,  stooping  down  to  speak  to  him  in  a 
low  voice." 

Curiosity  brought  more  people  under  the  boy's  feet ; 
every  one  was  silent,  awaiting  anxiously  to  catch  his 
words,  as  though  all  their  lives  depended  on  them. 

"  I  see,"  he  went  on,  "  the  executioner  driving  four 
little  pieces  of  wood  between  the  cords,  after  the 
Capuchins  have  blessed  the  hammer  and  nails.  Ah, 
heavens !  Sister,  how  enraged  they  seem  with  him,  be- 
cause he  will  not  speak.  Mother !  Mother !  give  me 
yonr  hand,  I  want  to  come  down!" 

Instead  of  his  mother,  the  child,  upon  turning 
round,  saw  only  male  faces,  looking  up  to  him  with  a 
mournful  eagerness,  and  signing  him  to  proceed.  He 
dared  not  descend,  and  looked  again  through  the  win- 
dow, trembling. 

"  Oh !  I  see  Father  Lactantius  and  Father  Barre* 
themselves  forcing  in  more  pieces  of  wood,  which 
squeeze  his  legs.  Oh,  how  pale  he  is  !  he  seems  pray- 


THE  MARTYRDOM,  79 

ing.  There,  his  head  falls  back,  as  if  he  were  dying  ! 
Oh,  take  me  away  ! " 

And  he  fell  into  the  arms  of  the  young  advocate,  of 
M.  du  Lude,  and  of  Cinq-Mars,  who  had  come  to  support 
him. 

"  Deus  stetit  in  synagoga  deorum  :  in  medio  autem 
Deus  dijudicat  — "  chanted  strong  and  nasal  voices, 
issuing  from  the  small  window,  which  continued  in  full 
chorus  one  of  the  psalms,  interrupted  by  blows  of  the 
hammer,  —  an  infernal  deed  beating  time  to  celestial 
songs.  One  might  have  supposed  one's  self  near  a 
smith's  shop,  but  that  the  blows  were  dull,  and  mani- 
fested to  the  ear  that  the  anvil  was  a  man's  body. 

"  Silence  !  "  said  Fournier,  "  he  speaks.  The  chanting 
and  the  blows  stop." 

A  weak  voice  within  said  with  difficulty,  "  Oh,  my 
fathers,  mitigate  the  rigor  of  your  torments,  for  you  will 
reduce  my  soul  to  despair,  and  I  might  seek  to  destroy 
myself!" 

At  this,  the  fury  of  the  people  burst  forth  like  an  ex- 
plosion, echoing  along  the  vaulted  roofs ;  the  men 
fiercely  sprang  upon  the  platform,  thrust  aside  the 
surprised  and  hesitating  archers ;  the  unarmed  crowd 
drove  them  back,  pressed  them,  almost  suffocated  them 
against  the  walls,  and  held  them  fast,  then  dashed 
against  the  doors  which  led  to  the  question-chamber, 
and  making  them  shake  beneath  their  blows,  threatened 
to  drive  them  in  ;  imprecations  resounded  from  a  thou- 
sand menacing  voices  and  terrified  the  judges  within. 

"  They  are  gone  ;  they  have  taken  him  away  !  "  cried  a 
man,  who  had  climbed  to  the  little  window. 


80  CINQ-MARS. 

The  multitude  at  once  stopped  short,  and  changing 
the  direction  of  their  steps,  fled  from  this  detestable 
place  and  rapidly  spread  through  the  streets.  There 
an  extraordinary  confusion  prevailed. 

Night  had  come  on  during  the  long  sitting,  and  the 
rain  was  pouring  down  in  torrents.  The  darkness  was 
fearful.  The  cries  of  women  slipping  on  the  pavement 
or  driven  back  by  the  horses  of  the  guards ;  the  shout 
of  the  assembled  and  furious  men ;  the  incessant  toll- 
ing of  the  bells  which  had  been  keeping  time  with  the 
strokes  of  the  question ;  the  roll  of  distant  thunder,  —  all 
combined  to  increase  the  disorder.  If  the  ear  was  as- 
tonished, the  eyes  were  no  less  so.  A  few  dismal  torches 
lighted  up  the  corners  of  the  streets,  and  casting  flitting 
gleams  showed  soldiers,  armed  and  mounted,  dashing 
along,  regardless  of  the  crowd,  to  assemble  in  the  Place 
de  St.  Pierre  le  Marche" ;  tiles  were  sometimes  thrown 
at  them  on  their  way,  but  missing  the  distant  culprit, 
fell  upon  some  unoffending  neighbor.  The  confusion 
was  bewildering,  and  became  still  more  so,  when,  hurry- 
ing through  all  the  streets  towards  the  Place  de  St. 
Pierre,  the  people  found  it  barricaded  on  all  sides,  and 
filled  with  mounted  guards  and  archers.  Carts,  fastened 
to  the  posts  at  each  corner,  closed  each  entrance,  and 
sentinels,  armed  with  arquebuses,  were  stationed  close 
to  the  carts.  In  the  midst  of  the  Place,  arose  a  pile 
composed  of  enormous  beams  placed  crosswise  upon  one 
another,  so  as  to  form  a  perfect  square ;  these  were  cov- 
ered with  a  whiter  and  lighter  wood  ;  an  immense  stake 
arose  from  the  centre  of  the  scaffold.  A  man  clothed 
in  red  and  holding  a  lowered  torch  stood  near  this  sort 


THE  MARTYRDOM.  81 

of  mast,  which  was  visible  from  a  distance.  An  enor- 
mous chafing-dish,  covered  on  account  of  the  rain,  was 
at  his  feet. 

At  this  spectacle,  terror  everywhere  inspired  a  pro- 
found silence  ;  for  an  instant  nothing  was  heard  hut  the 
sound  of  the  rain,  which  fell  in  torrents,  and  of  the 
thunder,  which  came  nearer  and  nearer. 

Meanwhile  Cinq-Mars,  accompanied  by  MM.  du  Lude 
and  Fournier  and  all  the  more  important  personages 
of  the  town,  had  taken  shelter  from  the  storm  under 
the  peristyle  of  the  church  of  Ste.  Croix,  raised  upon 
twenty  stone  steps.  The  pile  was  in  front,  and  from 
this  height  they  could  see  the  whole  of  the  square.  The 
centre  was  entirely  clear,  large  streams  of  water  alone 
traversed  it;  but  all  the  windows  of  the  houses  were 
gradually  lighted  up,  and  showed  the  heads  of  the  men 
and  women  who  thronged  them. 

The  young  D'Effiat  sorrowfully  contemplated  this 
lugubrious  preparation  ;  brought  up  in  sentiments  of 
honor,  and  far  removed  from  the  black  thoughts  which 
hatred  and  ambition  arouse  in  the  heart  of  man,  he 
could  not  conceive  that  such  wrong  could  be  done  with- 
out some  powerful  and  secret  motive.  The  daring  of 
such  a  condemnation  seemed  to  him  so  enormous  that 
its  very  cruelty  began  to  justify  it  in  his  eyes ;  a  secret 
horror  crept  into  his  soul,  the  same  that  silenced  the 
people.  He  almost  forgot  the  interest  with  which  the 
unhappy  Urbain  had  inspired  him,  in  thinking  whether 
it  were  not  possible  that  some  secret  correspondence 
with  the  infernal  powers  had  justly  provoked  such  ex- 
cessive severity  ;  and  the  public  revelations  of  the  nuns, 
VOL.  i.  —  6 


82  CINQ-MARS. 

and  the  statement  of  his  respected  tutor,  faded  from  his 
memory,  so  powerful  is  success,  even  in  the  eyes  of  su- 
perior men  !  so  strongly  does  force  impose  upon  men, 
despite  the  voice  of  conscience ! 

The  young  traveller  was  asking  himself  if  it  were 
not  probable  that  the  torture  had  forced  some  mon- 
strous confession  from  the  accused,  when  the  obscurity 
which  surrounded  the  church  suddenly  ceased.  Its  two 
great  doors  were  thrown  open  ;  and  by  the  light  of  an 
infinite  number  of  flambeaux,  appeared  all  the  judges 
and  ecclesiastics,  surrounded  by  guards.  In  the  midst 
of  them  was  Urbain,  supported  or  rather  carried  by  six 
men  clothed  as  Black  Penitents,  —  for  his  limbs,  bound 
with  bandages  saturated  with  blood,  seemed  broken  and 
incapable  of  supporting  him.  It  was  at  most  two  hours 
since  Cinq-Mars  had  seen  him,  and  yet  he  could  scarcely 
recognize  the  face  he  had  so  closely  observed  at  the 
trial.  All  color,  all  roundness  of  form  had  disappeared 
from  it ;  a  livid  pallor  covered  a  skin  yellow  and  shin- 
ing like  ivory  ;  the  blood  seemed  to  have  left  his  veins ; 
all  the  life  that  remained  within  him  shone  from  his 
dark  eyes,  which  appeared  to  have  grown  twice  as  large 
as  before,  as  he  cast  them  languidly  around  him  ;  his 
long  chestnut  hair  hung  loosely  down  his  neck  and 
over  a  white  shirt,  which  entirely  covered  him,  or  rather 
a  sort  of  robe  with  large  sleeves,  and  of  a  yellowish  tint, 
with  an  odor  of  sulphur  about  it  ;  a  long,  thick  cord 
encircled  his  neck  and  fell  upon  his  breast.  He  looked 
like  an  apparition  ;  but  it  was  the  apparition  of  a 
martyr. 

Urbain  stopped,  or  rather  was  set  down  upon  the  peri- 


THE  MARTYRDOM.  83 

style  of  the  church ;  the  Capuchin  Lactantius  placed  a 
lighted  torch  in  his  right  hand,  and  held  it  there,  as  he 
said  to  him  with  his  hard  inflexibility,  — 

"  Do  penance,  and  ask  pardon  of  God  for  thy  crime 
of  magic." 

The  unhappy  man  raised  his  voice  with  great  diffi- 
culty, and  with  his  eyes  to  heaven  said, — 

"  In  the  name  of  the  living  God,  I  cite  thee,  Laubarde- 
mont,  false  judge,  to  appear  before  him  in  three  years. 
They  have  taken  away  my  confessor,  and  I  have  been 
fain  to  pour  out  my  faults  into  the  bosom  of  God  him- 
self, for  my  enemies  surround  me  ;  I  call  that  God  of 
mercy  to  witness  I  have  never  dealt  in  magic.  I  have 
known  no  mysteries  but  those  of  the  Catholic  religion, 
apostolic  and  Roman,  in  which  I  die  ;  I  have  sinned 
much  against  myself,  but  never  against  God  and  our 
Lord  —  " 

"  Proceed  not !  "  cried  the  Capuchin,  affecting  to  close 
his  mouth  ere  he  could  pronounce  the  name  of  the 
Saviour.  "  Obdurate  wretch,  return  to  the  demon  who 
sent  thee  ! " 

He  signed  to  four  priests,  who,  approaching  with 
sprinklers  in  their  hands,  exorcised  with  holy  water  the 
air  the  magician  breathed,  the  earth  he  touched,  the 
wood  that  was  to  burn  him.  During  this  ceremony, 
the  judge-advocate  hastily  read  the  decree,  dated  the 
18th  of  August,  1639,  declaring  Urbain  Grrandier  duly 
attainted  and  convicted  of  the  crime  of  sorcery,  witch- 
craft, and  possession,  in  the  persons  of  sundry  Ursuline 
nuns  of  Loudun,  and  others,  laymen,  etc. 

The  reader,  dazzled  by  a  flash  of  lightning,  stopped 


84  CINQ-MARS. 

for  an  instant,  and,  turning  to  M.  dc  Laubardemont, 
asked  whether,  considering  the  awful  weather,  the 
execution  could  not  be  deterred  till  the  next  day. 

"  The  decree,"  coldly  answered  Laubardemont,  "  com- 
mands execution  within  twenty-four  hours.  Fear  not  the 
incredulous  people  ;  they  will  soon  be  convinced." 

All  the  most  considerable  persons  of  the  town  and 
many  strangers  were  under  the  peristyle,  and  now 
advanced,  Cinq-Mars  among  them. 

"  The  magician  has  never  been  able  to  pronounce  the 
name  of  the  Saviour,  and  repels  his  image." 

Lactantius  at  this  moment  issued  from  the  midst  of 
the  Penitents,  with  an  enormous  iron  crucifix  in  his  hand, 
which  he  seemed  to  hold  with  precaution  and  respect ; 
he  extended  it  to  the  lips  of  the  sufferer,  who  indeed 
threw  back  his  head,  and  collecting  all  his  strength, 
made  a  gesture  with  his  arm,  which  threw  the  cross 
from  the  hands  of  the  Capuchin. 

"You  see,"  cried  the  latter,  "he  has  thrown  down  the 
cross !  " 

A  murmur  arose,  the  meaning  of  which  was  dubious. 

"  Profanation  ! "  cried  the  priests. 

The  procession  moved  on  towards  the  pile. 

Meanwhile,  Cinq-Mars,  gliding  behind  a  pillar,  had 
eagerly  watched  all  that  passed ;  he  saw  with  astonish- 
ment that  the  cross,  in  falling  upon  the  steps,  which 
were  more  exposed  to  the  rain  than  the  platform,  smoked 
and  made  a  noise  like  molten  lead  when  thrown  into 
water.  While  the  public  attention  was  elsewhere  en- 
gaged, he  advanced  and  touched  it  lightly  with  his  hand, 
which  was  immediately  scorched.  Seized  with  indigna- 


THE  MARTYRDOM.  85 

tiou,  with  all  the  fury  of  a  true  heart  he  took  up  the 
cross  with  the  folds  of  his  cloak,  stepped  up  to  Lau- 
bardemont,  and  striking  him  with  it  on  the  fore- 
head, cried, — 

"  Villain,  bear  the  mark  of  this  red-hot  iron  !  " 

The  crowd  heard  these  words,  and  rushed  forward. 

"  Arrest  this  madman  !  "  cried  the  unworthy  magis- 
trate. 

He  was  himself  seized  by  the  hands  of  men  who 
cried,— 

"  Justice  !  justice,  in  the  name  of  the  king  !  " 

"  We  are  lost ! "  said  Lactantius ;  "  to  the  pile,  to 
the  pile ! " 

The  Penitents  dragged  Urbain  towards  the  Place, 
while  the  judges  and  archers  re-entered  the  church, 
struggling  with  the  furious  citizens  ;  the  executioner, 
having  no  time  to  tie  up  the  victim,  hastened  to  lay  him 
on  the  wood,  and  to  set  fire  to  it.  But  the  rain  still 
fell  in  torrents,  and  each  piece  of  wood  had  no  sooner 
caught  the  flame  than  it  became  extinguished.  In  vain 
did  Lactantius  and  the  other  canons  themselves  seek 
to  stir  up  the  fire ;  nothing  could  overcome  the  water 
which  fell  from  heaven. 

Meanwhile  the  tumult  which  had  commenced  in  the 
peristyle  of  the  church  extended  throughout  the  square. 
The  cry  of  "  Justice !  "  was  repeated  and  circulated,  with 
the  information  of  what  had  been  discovered ;  two 
barricades  were  forced,  and  despite  three  volleys  of 
musketry,  the  archers  were  gradually  driven  back 
towards  the  centre  of  the  square.  They  in  vain  spurred 
their  horses  against  the  crowd  ;  it  overwhelmed  them 


86  CINQ-MARS. 

with  its  swelling  waves.  Half  an  hour  passed  in  this 
struggle,  the  guards  still  receding  towards  the  pile, 
which  they  concealed  as  they  pressed  closer  upon  it. 

"  On  !  on ! "  cried  a  man ;  "  we  will  deliver  him  ;  do 
not  strike  the  soldiers,  but  let  them  fall  back.  See, 
Heaven  will  not  permit  him  to  die !  The  fire  is  out ; 
now,  friend,  one  effort  more !  That  is  well !  Throw 
down  that  horse  !  Forward  !  on  !  " 

The  guard  was  broken  and  dispersed  on  all  sides. 
The  crowd  rushed  to  the  pile,  but  there  was  no  longer 
any  light  there  :  all  had  disappeared,  even  the  execu- 
tioner. They  tore  up  and  threw  aside  the  beams  ;  ohe 
of  them  was  still  burning,  and  its  light  showed 
under  a  mass  of  ashes  and  ensanguined  mire  a  black- 
ened hand,  preserved  from  the  fire  by  a  large  iron 
bracelet  and  chain.  A  woman  had  the  courage  to 
open  it ;  the  fingers  clasped  a  small  ivory  cross  and 
an  image  of  Saint  Magdalen. 

"  These  are  his  remains,"  she  said,  weeping. 

"  Say,  the  relics  of  a  martyr,"  exclaimed  a  citizen, 
uncovering. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   DREAM. 

Nous  sommes  au  printemps,  et  nos  bois  sont  deserts, 
Et  le  printemps  ii'a  pas,  ramenant  ses  concerts, 
Reveille  les  oiseaux  eudormis  sous  les  branches ; 
L'aubepine  est  en  deuil,  et  les  faibles  pervenches 
De  leurs  boutons  fle'tris  s'e'chappent  sans  couleurs. 
Les  vergers  languissauts  alte're's  de  chaleurs, 
Au  lieu  de  nous  donuer'des  flours  et  de  1'ombrage, 
Balancent  des  rameaux  de'pourvus  de  feuillages  ; 
II  semble  que  1'hiver  ue  quitte  pas  les  cieux. 

JULES  LEFEVRE,  Maria. 

MEANWHILE,  Cinq-Mars,  amid  the  fray  which  his  out- 
break had  provoked,  felt  his  left  arm  seized  by  a  hand 
as  hard  as  iron,  which,  drawing  him  from  the  crowd  to 
the  bottom  of  the  steps,  pushed  him  behind  the  wall  of 
the  church,  and  he  then  saw  the  dark  face  of  old  Grand- 
champ,  who  said  to  him  in  a  sharp  voice,  — 

"  Sir,  your  attacking  thirty  musketeers  in  a  wood 
at  Chaumont  was  nothing,  because  we  were  near  you, 
though  you  knew  it  not,  and,  moreover,  you  had  to  do 
with  men  of  honor ;  but  here  't  is  another  thing.  Your 
horses  and  people  are  at  the  end  of  the  street ;  I  re- 


88  CINQ-MARS. 

i 

quest  you  to  mount  and  leave  the  town,  or  to  send  me 
back  to  Madame  la  Mardchale,  for  I  am  responsible 
for  your  limbs,  which  you  expose  so  freely." 

Cinq-Mars,  though  somewhat  confounded  at  this  rough 
mode  of  having  a  service  done  him,  was  not  sorry  to 
extricate  himself  thus  from  the  affair,  having  had  time 
to  reflect  how  very  awkward  it  might  be  for  him  to  be 
recognized,  after  having  struck  the  head  of  the  judicial 
authority  and  the  agent  of  the  very  cardinal  who  was  to 
present  him  to  the  king.  He  observed  also  that  there 
was  assembled  around  him  a  crowd  of  the  lowest  class 
of  people,  among  whom  he  blushed  to  find  himself.  He 
therefore  followed  his  old  domestic  without  arguing  the 
matter  with  him,  and  found  the  other  three  servants 
waiting  for  him.  Despite  the  rain  and  wind  he  mounted, 
and  was  soon  upon  the  high-road  with  his  escort,  having 
put  his  horse  to  a  gallop  to  avoid  pursuit. 

He  had,  however,  no  sooner  got  out  of  Loudun  than 
the  sandy  road,  furrowed  by  deep  ruts  completely  filled 
with  water,  obliged  him  to  slacken  his  pace.  The  rain 
continued  to  fall  in  torrents,  and  his  cloak  was  almost 
saturated.  He  felt  a  thicker  one  thrown  over  his  shoul- 
ders ;  it  was  his  old  valet-de-chambre  who  had  approached 
him,  and  thus  exhibited  for  him  a  maternal  solicitude. 

"  Well,  Grandchamp,"  said  Cinq-Mars,  "  now  that  we 
are  clear  of  the  scuffle,  tell  me  how  you  came  to  be  there 
when  I  had  ordered  you  to  remain  at  the  abba's." 

"  Parbleu,  Monsieur  ! "  answered  the  old  servant,  in  a 
grumbling  tone,  "  do  you  suppose  that  I  should  obey  you 
more  than  I  did  M.  le  Mardchal  ?  When  my  late  master, 
after  telling  me  to  remain  in  his  tent,  found  me  behind 


THE  DREAM.  89 

him  in  the  cannon's  smoke,  he  made  no  complaint,  be- 
cause he  had  a  fresh  horse  ready  when  his  own  was 
killed,  and  he  only  scolded  me  for  a  moment  in  his 
thoughts;  but  truly,  during  the  forty  years  I  served  him, 
I  never  saw  him  act  as  you  have  done  in  the  fortnight 
I  have  been  with  you.  Ah ! "  he  added  with  a  sigh, 
"we  are  going  on  at  a  fine  rate;  and  if  it  continues, 
there  's  no  knowing  what  will  be  the  end  of  it." 

"  But  knowest  thou,  Grandchamp,  that  these  scoun- 
drels had  made  the  crucifix  red  hot  ?  —  a  thing  at  which 
there 's  no  honest  man  but  would  have  been  as  much 
enraged  as  I  was." 

"  Except  M.  le  Marshal,  your  father,  who  would  not 
have  done  at  all  what  you  have  done,  sir." 

"  What,  then,  would  he  have  done  ?  " 

"  He  would  very  quietly  have  let  this  cure"  be  burned 
by  the  other  cure's,  and  would  have  said  to  me,  '  Grand- 
champ,  see  that  my  horses  have  oats,  and  let  no  one 
steal  them ; '  or,  '  Grandchamp,  take  care  that  the  rain 
does  not  rust  my  sword  or  wet  the  priming  of  my  pis- 
tols ; '  for  M.  le  Marshal  thought  of  everything,  and 
never  interfered  in  what  did  not  concern  him.  That 
was  his  great  principle ;  and  as  he  was,  thank  Heaven, 
alike  good  soldier  and  good  general,  he  was  always  as 
careful  of  his  arms  as  a  recruit,  and  would  not  have  stood 
up  against  thirty  young  gallants  with  a  dress  rapier." 

Cinq-Mars  felt  the  force  of  the  worthy  servitor's  epi- 
grammatic scolding,  and  feared  that  he  had  followed 
him  beyond  the  wood  of  Chaumont ;  but  he  would  not 
ask,  lest  he  should  have  to  give  explanations  or  to  tell 
a  falsehood  or  to  command  silence,  which  would  at  once 


90  CINQ-MARS. 

have  been  taking  him  into  confidence  on  the  subject. 
As  the  only  alternative,  he  spurred  his  horse  and  got 
before  his  old  domestic ;  but  the  latter  had  not  yet  had 
his  say,  and  instead  of  keeping  behind  his  master,  rode 
up  to  his  left  and  continued  the  conversation. 

"  Do  you  suppose,  sir,  that  I  should  allow  you  to  go 
where  you  please  ?  No,  sir,  I  ain  too  deeply  impressed 
with  the  respect  I  owe  to  Madame  la  Marquise,  to  give 
her  an  opportunity  of  saying  to  me :  '  Grandchamp,  my 
son  has  been  killed  with  a  shot  or  with  a  sword ;  why 
were  you  not  before  him  ? '  Or, '  he  has  received  a  stab 
from  the  stiletto  of  an  Italian,  because  he  went  at  night 
beneath  the  window  of  a  great  princess ;  why  did  you 
not  seize  the  assassin  ? '  This  would  be  very  disagree- 
able to  me,  sir,  for  I  have  never  been  reproached  with 
anything  of  the  kind.  Once  M.  le  Mare"chal  lent  me  to 
his  nephew,  M.  le  Comte,  to  make  a  campaign  in  the 
Netherlands,  because  I  know  Spanish ;  well,  I  fulfilled 
the  duty  with  honor,  as  I  always  do.  When  M.  le  Comte 
received  a  bullet  in  his  heart,  I  myself  brought  back  his 
horses,  his  mules,  his  tent,  and  all  his  equipment,  with- 
out so  much  as  a  pocket-handkerchief  being  missed  ;  and 
I  can  assure  you  that  the  horses  were  as  well  dressed 
and  harnessed  when  we  re-entered  Chaumont  as  if 
M.  le  Comte  had  been  about  to  go  a-hunting.  And 
accordingly  I  received  nothing  but  compliments  and 
agreeable  things  from  the  whole  family,  just  in  the 
way- 1  like." 

"  Well,  well,  my  friend,"  said  Henri  d'Effiat,  "  I  may 
some  day,  perhaps,  have  these  horses  to  take  back ;  but 
in  the  mean  time  take  this  great  purse  of  gold,  which  I 


THE  DREAM.  91 

have  well-nigh  lost  two  or  three  times,  and  thou  shalt 
pay  for  me  everywhere.     The  money  wearies  me." 

"  M.  le  Mare'chal  did  not  so,  sir.  He  had  been  super- 
intendent of  finances,  and  he  counted  every  farthing  he 
paid  out  of  his  own  hand.  I  do  not  think  your  estates 
would  have  been  in  such  good  condition,  or  that  you 
would  have  had  so  much  money  to  count  yourself,  had 
he  done  otherwise ;  have  the  goodness  therefore  to  keep 
your  purse,  whose  contents,  I  dare  swear,  you  do  not 
know." 

"  Faith,  not  I." 

Grandchamp  sent  forth  a  profound  sigh  at  his  master's 
disdainful  exclamation. 

"  Ah,  M.  le  Marquis  !  M.  le  Marquis  !  When  I  think 
that  the  great  King  Henri,  before  my  eyes,  put  his 
chamois  gloves  into  his  pocket  to  keep  the  rain  from 
spoiling  them ;  when  I  think  that  M.  de  Rosni  refused 
him  money  when  he  had  spent  too  much ;  when  I 
think  —  " 

"  When  thou  dost  think,  thou  art  egregiously  tedious, 
my  old  friend,"  interrupted  his  master ;  "  and  thou  wilt 
do  better  in  telling  me  what  that  black  figure  is  that  I 
think  I  see  walking  in  the  mire  behind  us." 

"  It  looks  like  some  poor  peasant  woman  who  wants 
alms  of  us ;  she  may  easily  follow  us,  for  we  do  not  go 
at  much  of  a  pace  in  this  sand,  wherein  our  horses  sink 
up  to  the  hams.  We  shall  go  to  the  Landes  perhaps 
some  day,  sir,  and  you  will  there  see  a  country  all  the 
same  as  this  sandy  road,  and  great  black  firs  all  the 
way  along.  It  looks  like  a  churchyard ;  this  is  an  exact 
specimen  of  it.  Look,  now  the  rain  has  ceased  and  we 


92  CINQ-MARS. 

can  see  a  little ;  there  is  nothing  but  furze-bushes  on 
this  great  plain,  without  a  village  or  a  house.  I  don't 
know  where  we  can  pass  the  night ;  but  if  you  will  take 
my  advice,  you  will  let  us  cut  some  boughs  and  bivouac 
where  we  are.  You  shall  see  how  I  can  make  a  hut 
with  a  little  earth  as  warm  as  a  bed." 

"  I  would  rather  go  on  to  the  light  I  see  in  the 
horizon,"  said  Cinq-Mars  ;  "  for  I  fancy  I  feel  rather 
feverish,  and  I  am  thirsty.  But  fall  back,  I  would  ride 
alone ;  rejoin  the  others  and  follow." 

Grandchamp  obeyed;  he  consoled  himself  by  giving 
Germain,  Louis,  and  Etienne  lessons  in  the  art  of  re- 
connoitring a  country  by  night. 

Meanwhile,  his  young  master  was  overcome  with  fa- 
tigue. The  violent  emotions  of  the  day  had  profoundly 
affected  his  mind ;  and  the  long  journey  on  horseback, 
the  last  two  days  passed  almost  without  nourishment, 
owing  to  the  hurried  course  of  events,  the  heat  of  the 
sun  by  day,  the  icy  coldness  of  the  night,  all  contributed 
to  increase  his  indisposition  and  to  weary  his  delicate 
frame.  For  three  hours  he  journeyed  on  in  silence  be- 
fore his  people,  yet  the  light  he  had  seen  in  the  horizon 
seemed  no  nearer;  at  last  he  ceased  to  follow  it  with 
his  eyes,  and  his  head,  feeling  heavier  and  heavier,  sank 
upon  his  breast.  He  gave  the  reins  to  his  tired  horse, 
which  of  its  own  accord  followed  the  high-road,  and 
crossing  his  arms,  allowed  himself  to  be  rocked  by  the 
monotonous  motion  of  his  fellow-traveller,  which  fre- 
quently stumbled  against  the  large  stones  that  strewed 
the  road.  The  rain  had  ceased,  as  had  the  voices  of  his 
domestics,  whose  horses  followed  in  the  track  of  their 


THE  DREAM.  93 

master's.  The  young  man  abandoned  himself  to  the 
bitterness  of  his  thoughts;  he  asked  himself  whether  the 
bright  object  of  his  hopes  would  not  flee  from  him  day  by 
day,  as  that  phosphoric  light  fled  from  him  in  the  horizon, 
step  by  step.  Was  it  probable  that  the  young  princess, 
almost  forcibly  recalled  to  the  gallant  court  of  Anne  of 
Austria,  would  always  refuse  the  hands,  perhaps  royal 
ones,  that  would  be  offered  to  her  ?  What  chance  that 
she  would  resign  herself  to  renounce  a  present  throne,  in 
order  to  wait  till  some  caprice  of  fortune  should  realize 
romantic  hopes,  or  take  a  youth  almost  in  the  lowest 
rank  of  the  army  and  lift  him  to  the  elevation  she  spoke 
of,  till  the  age  of  love  should  be  passed  ?  How  could  he 
be  certain  that  even  the  vows  of  Marie  de  Gonzaga  were 
sincere  ?  "  Alas,"  he  soliloquized,  "  perhaps  she  has 
blinded  herself  as  to  her  own  sentiments ;  the  solitude 
of  the  country  had  prepared  her  soul  to  receive  deep 
impressions.  I  came ;  she  thought  I  was  he  of  whom 
she  had  dreamed.  Our  age  and  my  love  did  the  rest. 
But  when  at  court,  she,  the  companion  of  the  queen, 
has  learned  to  contemplate  from  an  exalted  position  the 
greatness  to  which  I  aspire,  and  which  I  as  yet  only  see 
from  a  very  humble  distance ;  when  she  shall  suddenly 
find  herself  in  actual  possession  of  the  future  she  aims 
at,  and  measures  with  a  more  correct  eye  the  long  road 
I  have  to  journey  over  ;  when  she  shall  hear  around  her 
vows  like  mine,  pronounced  by  lips  which  could  undo 
me  with  a  word,  with  a  word  destroy  him  whom  she 
awaits  as  her  husband,  her  lord,  —  oh,  madman  that  I 
have  been !  —  she  will  see  all  her  folly,  and  will  be  in- 
censed at  mine." 


94  CINQ-MARS. 

Thus  did  doubt,  the  greatest  misery  of  love,  begin  to 
rack  his  sick  heart ;  he  felt  his  hot  blood  rush  to  his 
head  and  oppress  it.  Ever  and  anon  he  fell  forward 
upon  the  neck  of  his  horse,  and  a  half  sleep  weighed 
down  his  eyes ;  the  dark  firs  that  bordered  the  road 
seemed  to  him  gigantic  corpses  journeying  by  his  side. 
He  saw,  or  thought  he  saw,  the  same  woman  clothed  in 
black,  whom  he  had  pointed  out  to  Grandchamp,  ap- 
proach so  near  as  to  touch  his  horse's  mane,  pull  his 
cloak,  and  then  run  off  with  a  jeering  laugh  ;  the  sand 
of  the  road  seemed  to  him  a  river  running  beneath  him, 
with  opposing  current,  back  towards  its  source.  This 
strange  sight  dazzled  his  worn  eyes ;  he  closed  them 
and  fell  asleep  on  his  horse. 

Ere  long,  he  felt  himself  stopped,  but  he  was  numbed 
with  cold  and  could  not  move.  He  saw  peasants, 
lights,  a  house,  a  great  room  into  which  they  carried 
him,  a  vast  bed,  whose  heavy  curtains  were  closed  by 
Grandchamp  ;  and  he  fell  asleep  again,  stunned  by  the 
fever  that  whirred  in  his  ears. 

Dreams,  that  followed  one  another  more  rapidly  than 
grains  of  sand  before  the  wind,  dashed  through  his 
brain ;  he  could  not  catch  them,  and  moved  restlessly 
on  his  bed.  Urbain  Grandier  on  the  rack,  his  mother 
in  tears,  his  tutor  armed,  Bassompierre  loaded  with 
chains,  passed  before  him,  making  signs  of  farewell ; 
at  last,  as  he  slept,  he  instinctively  put  his  hand  to  his 
head  to  fix  the  just  passing  dream,  which  then  seemed 
to  unfold  itself  before  his  eyes  like  a  quicksand. 

There  was  a  public  square  crowded  with  a  foreign 
people,  a  northern  people,  who  sent  forth  cries  of  joy, 


THE  DREAM.  95 

but  they  were  savage  cries ;  there  was  a  line  of  guards, 
ferocious  soldiers,  —  these  were  Frenchmen.  "  Come 
with  me,"  said  the  soft  voice  of  Marie  de  Gonzaga, 
taking  his  hand.  "  See,  I  have  a  diadem ;  here  is  thy 
throne,  come  with  me."  And  she  hurried  him  on, 
the  people  still  shouting.  He  went  on,  on,  on,  a  long 
way.  "  Why,  then,  are  you  sad,  if  you  are  a  queen  ?  " 
he  said,  trembling.  But  she  was  pale,  and  smiled  and 
spoke  not.  She  ascended,  step  after  step,  up  to  a 
throne,  and  seated  herself.  "  Mount,"  said  she,  forci- 
bly pulling  his  hand.  But,  at  every  movement,  the 
massive  stairs  crumbled  beneath  his  feet,  so  that  he 
could  not  ascend.  "  Give  thanks  to  love,"  she  con- 
tinued ;  and  the  hand,  now  more  powerful,  raised  him 
to  the  summit.  The  people  still  shouted.  He  bowed 
low  to  kiss  that  helping  hand,  that  adored  hand;  it 
was  the  hand  of  the  executioner ! 

"  Oh,  heavens  ! "  exclaimed  Cinq-Mars,  as,  sending 
forth  a  deep  sigh,  he  opened  his  eyes.  A  flickering 
lamp  lighted  the  ruinous  chamber  of  the  inn ;  he  again 
closed  his  eyes,  for  he  had  seen,  seated  on  his  bed,  a 
woman,  a  nun,  so  young,  so  beautiful !  He  thought 
he  was  still  dreaming,  but  she  grasped  his  hand 
tightly.  He  opened  his  burning  eyes,  and  fixed  them 
upon  her. 

"  Is  it  you,  Jeanne  de  Belfiel  ?  How  the  rain  has 
drenched  your  veil  and  your  black  hair!  What  do 
you  here,  unhappy  woman  ?  " 

"  Hark !  awake  not  my  Urbain ;  he  sleeps  there  in 
the  next  chamber.  Ay,  my  hair  is  indeed  wet,  and  my 
feet  —  sec,  my  feet  that  were  once  so  white,  see  how 


96  CINQ-MARS. 

the  mud  has  soiled  them.  But  I  have  made  a  vow,  —  I 
will  not  wash  them  till  I  have  seen  the  king,  and  lie 
has  granted  me  Urbain's  pardon.  I  am  going  to  the 
army  to  find  him ;  I  will  speak  to  him  as  G randier 
taught  me  to  speak,  and  he  will  pardon  him.  And 
listen,  I  will  also  ask  thy  pardon,  for  I  read  it  in  thy 
face  that  thou  too  art  condemned  to  death.  Poor 
youth !  thou  art  too  young  to  die,  thy  curling  hair  is 
beautiful ;  but  yet  thou  art  condemned,  for  thou  hast 
on  thy  brow  a  line  that  never  deceives.  The  man 
thou  hast  struck  will  kill  thee.  Thou  hast  made  too 
much  use  of  the  cross ;  it  is  that  will  bring  evil  upon 
thee.  Thou  hast  struck  with  it,  and  thou  wearest  it 
round  thy  neck  by  a  hair  chain.  Nay,  hide  not  thy 
face ;  have  I  said  aught  to  afflict  the,  or  is  it  that 
thou  lovest,  young  man  ?  Ah,  reassure  thyself,  I  will 
not  tell  all  this  to  thy  love.  I  am  mad,  but  I  am  gentle, 
very  gentle  ;  and  three  days  since  I  was  beautiful.  Is 
she  also  beautiful  ?  Ah !  she  will  weep  some  day ! 
Yet,  if  she  can  weep,  she  will  be  happy !  " 

And  then  all  at  once  Jeanne  began  to  recite  the 
service  for  the  dead  in  a  monotonous  voice,  but  with 
incredible  volubility,  still  seated  on  the  bed,  and  turning 
the  beads  of  a  long  rosary. 

Suddenly  the  door  opened ;  she  looked  up,  and  fled 
through  a  door  in  the  partition. 

"  What  the  devil's  that,  —  an  imp  or  an  angel,  saying 
the  funeral  service  over  you,  and  you  under  the  clothes, 
as  in  a  shroud  ?  " 

This  abrupt  exclamation  came  from  the  rough  voice 
of  Grandchamp,  who  was  so  astonished  at  what  he  had 


THE  DREAM.  97 

seen  that  he  dropped  the  glass  of  lemonade  he  was  bring- 
ing in.  Finding  that  his  master  did  not  answer,  he 
became  still  more  alarmed,  and  raised  the  bed-clothes. 
Cinq-Mars  was  crimson  in  the  face,  and  seemed  asleep, 
but  his  old  domestic  saw  that  the  blood  rushing  to  his 
head  had  almost  suffocated  him ;  and  seizing  a  pitcher 
full  of  cold  water,  he  dashed  the  whole  of  it  in  his  face. 
This  military  remedy  rarely  fails  to  effect  its  purpose, 
and  Cinq-Mars  returned  to  himself  with  a  start. 

"Ah!  it  is  thou,  Grandchamp;  what  frightful  dreams 
I  have  had!" 

"  Peste!  M.  le  Marquis,  your  dreams,  on  the  contrary, 
are  very  pretty  ones.  I  saw  the  tail  of  the  last  as  I 
came  in ;  your  choice  is  not  bad." 

"  What  dost  mean,  blockhead?" 

"  Nay,  not  a  blockhead,  sir ;  I  have  good  eyes,  and 
I  have  seen  what  I  have  seen.  But,  really,  ill  as  you 
are,  M.  le  Mare*chal  would  never — " 

"  Thou  art  utterly  doting,  my  friend,  give  me  some 
drink,  I  am  parched  with  thirst.  Oh,  heavens !  what 
a  night!  I  still  see  all  those  women." 

"  All  those  women,  sir  ?     Why,  how  many  are  here  ?" 

"  I  am  speaking  to  thee  of  a  dream,  blockhead.  Why 
standest  there  like  a  post,  instead  of  giving  me  some 
drink?" 

"  Enough,  sir ;  I  will  get  more  lemonade."  And  go- 
ing to  the  door  he  called  over  the  staircase,  "  Germain  ! 
Etienne  !  Louis  ! " 

The  innkeeper  answered  from  below,  "  Coming,  sir, 
coming ;  they  have  been  helping  me  to  catch  the  mad- 
woman." 
VOL.  i.  —  7 


98  CINQ-MARS. 

"  What  mad-woman  ?  "  said  Cinq-Mars,  getting  up  in  bed. 

The  host  entered,  and  taking  off  his  cotton  cap,  said 
respectfully, — "Oh,  nothing,  M.  le  Marquis,  only  a 
mad-woman  that  came  here  last  night  on  foot,  and 
whom  we  put  in  the  next  chamber ;  but  she  has  escaped, 
and  we  have  not  been  able  to  catch  her." 

"  Ah !"  exclaimed  Cinq-Mars,  returning  to  himself  and 
putting  his  hand  to  his  eyes,  "  it  was  not  a  dream,  then. 
And  my  mother,  where  is  she  ?  and  the  mare'chal,  and  — 
Ah  !  and  yet  it  is  but  a  fearful  dream  !  Leave  me." 

As  he  said  this,  he  turned  towards  the  wall,  and  again 
pulled  the  clothes  over  his  head. 

The  innkeeper,  in  amazement,  touched  his  forehead 
three  times  with  his  finger,  looking  at  Grandchamp  as 
though  to  ask  him  whether  his  master  were  also  mad. 

Grandchamp  signed  him  away  in  silence,  and  in  order 
to  watch  the  rest  of  the  night  by  the  side  of  Cinq-Mars, 
who  was  in  a  deep  sleep,  he  seated  himself  in  a  large 
armchair,  covered  with  carpet-work,  and  began  to  squeeze 
lemons  into  a  glass  of  water  with  an  air  as  grave  and 
severe  as  Archimedes  calculating  the  inflammatory 
power  of  his  mirrors. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    CABINET. 

Men  have  rarely  the  courage  to  be  wholly  good  or  wholly  bad. 

MACCHIAVELLI. 

Ne  cherchez  point  ailleurs  un  arbitre  supreme.  —  C.  DE  PQNS. 

LET  us  leave  our  young  traveller  sleeping ;  he  will  soon 
pursue  a  long  and  beautiful  route.  Since  we  are  at  lib- 
erty to  turn  to  all  points  of  the  map,  we  will  fix  our  eyes 
upon  the  city  of  Narbonne. 

See  the  Mediterranean,  not  far  distant,  washing  with 
its  blue  waters  the  sandy  shores.  Enter  that  city  re- 
sembling Athens ;  and  to  find  him  who  reigns  there, 
follow  that  dark  and  irregular  street.  Mount  the  steps 
of  the  old  archiepiscopal  palace,  and  enter  the  first  and 
largest  of  its  apartments. 

It  was  a  very  long  saloon,  lighted  by  a  series  of  high 
ogee  windows,  of  which  the  upper  part  only  have  re- 
tained the  blue,  yellow,  and  red  panes  that  diffuse  a 
mysterious  light  through  the  apartment.  An  immense 


100  CINQ-MARS. 

round  table  occupied  its  entire  breadth,  near  the  great 
fireplace ;  around  this  table,  covered  with  a  colored 
cloth  and  laden  with  papers  and  portfolios,  were  seated, 
bending  over  their  pens,  eight  secretaries,  busied  in 
copying  letters  which  were  passed  to  them  from  a 
smaller  table.  Other  men,  cautiously  walking  to  and 
fro  on  the  carpeted  floor,  arranged  the  completed  papers 
in  the  shelves  of  a  bookcase,  partly  filled  with  books 
bound  in  black. 

Notwithstanding  the  number  of  persons  assembled  in 
the  room,  you  might  have  heard  the  wings  of  a  fly  move. 
The  only  interruption  to  the  otherwise  dead  silence  was 
the  sound  of  pens  rapidly  gliding  over  paper,  and  a 
shrill  voice  dictating,  stopping  every  now  and  then  to 
cough.  This  voice  proceeded  from  a  vast  armchair 
placed  by  the  side  of  the  fire,  which  was  blazing,  not- 
withstanding the  heat  of  the  season  and  of  the  country. 
It  was  one  of  those  armchairs  that  you  still  see  in  old 
castles,  and  which  seem  made  to  read  you  to  sleep  in, 
whatever  the  book  may  be,  so  easy  is  every  part  of  it. 
You  are  received  into  a  circular  cushion  of  down ;  if  the 
head  leans  back,  the  cheeks  sink  into  pillows  covered 
with  silk,  and  the  seat  juts  out  so  far  beyond  the  elbows 
that  you  may  believe  the  provident  upholsterers  of  our 
forefathers  sought  to  provide  that  the  book  should  make 
no  noise  in  falling  so  as  to  awaken  the  sleeper. 

But  to  quit  this  digression,  and  proceed  to  the  man 
who  occupied  the  chair,  and  was  very  far  from  sleeping. 
He  had  a  broad  forehead,  bordered  with  very  white  thin 
hair,  large  mild  eyes,  a  wan,  thin  face,  to  which  a  small 
pointed  white  beard  gave  that  air  of  subtlety  and  finesse 


THE   CABINET.  101 

observable  in  all  the  portraits  of  the  age  of  Louis  XIII. ; 
a  mouth  almost  without  lips,  which  Lavater  deems  an 
indubitable  sign  of  an  evil  mind,  was  framed,  as  it  were, 
in  a  pair  of  slight  gray  mustaches  and  a  royale,  —  an  or- 
nament then  in  fashion,  and  which  somewhat  resembled 
a  comma  in  its  form.  The  old  man  wore  a  red  close  cap, 
a  large  robe-de-chambre,  and  stockings  of  purple  silk  ; 
he  was  no  less  a  personage  than  Armand  Duplessis, 
Cardinal  de  Richelieu. 

Near  him,  round  the  small  table  of  which  we  have 
spoken,  were  four  youths  of  from  fifteen  to  twenty  ; 
these  were  pages,  or  domestics,  according  to  the  term 
then  in  use,  which  signified  familiars,  friends  of  the 
house.  This  custom  was  a  remnant  of  feudal  patronage, 
which  still  existed  in  our  manners.  The  younger  mem- 
bers of  high  families  received  wages  from  the  great 
lords,  and  were  devoted  to  their  service  in  all  things, 
challenging  the  first  comer  at  a  nod  from  their  patron. 
The  pages  we  speak  of  drew  up  letters  from  the  outline 
previously  given  them  by  the  cardinal,  and  after  their 
master  had  thrown  a  glance  over  them,  passed  them  to 
the  secretaries,  who  made  fair  copies  of  them.  The  old 
due,  for  his  part,  wrote  on  his  knee  private  notes  upon 
small  slips  of  paper,  that  he  inserted  in  almost  all  the 
packets  before  sealing  them,  which  he  did  with  his  own 
hand. 

He  had  been  writing  for  some  moments,  when,  in  a 
mirror  before  him,  he  saw  the  youngest  of  his  pages 
writing  something  on  a  sheet  of  paper  much  smaller 
than  the  official  sheet.  He  hastily  wrote  a  few  words 
and  then  slipped  it  under  the  large  sheet  which,  much 


102  CINQ-MARS. 

against  his  inclination,  lie  had  to  fill ;  but,  seated  behind 
the  cardinal,  he  hoped  that  the  difficulty  with  which  the 
latter  turned  round  would  prevent  him  from  seeing  the 
little  manoeuvre  he  seemed  to  exercise  with  much  dex- 
terity. Suddenly  Richelieu  said  to  him  dryly,  "  Come 
hither,  M.  Olivier." 

These  words  came  like  a  thunder-clap  on  the  poor  boy, 
who  seemed  about  sixteen.  He  however  rose  at  once, 
and  stood  before  the  minister,  his  arms  dependent  at 
his  side,  and  his  head  down. 

The  other  pages  and  the  secretaries  stirred  no  more 
than  soldiers  when  a  comrade  is  struck  down  by  a  ball, 
so  accustomed  were  they  to  this  kind  of  summons.  The 
present  one,  however,  was  delivered  in  a  more  energetic 
tone  than  usual. 

"  What  were  you  writing  ?  " 

"  My  Lord,  what  your  Eminence  dictated." 

"How!" 

"  My  Lord,  the  letter  to  Don  Juan  de  Braganza." 

"  No  evasions,  sir  ;  you  were  doing  something  else." 

"  My  Lord,"  said  the  page,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  "  it 
was  a  letter  to  one  of  my  cousins." 

"  Let  me  see  it." 

The  page  trembled  in  every  limb  and  was  obliged  to 
lean  against  the  chimney-piece,  as  he  said  in  a  scarcely 
audible  tone,  "  It  is  impossible." 

"  M.  le  Vicomte  Olivier  d'Entraigues,"  said  the  min- 
ister, without  showing  the  least  emotion,  "  you  are  no 
longer  in  my  service."  The  page  withdrew.  He  knew 
that  there  was  no  reply ;  so  slipping  his  letter  into  his 
pocket,  and  opening  the  folding-doors  just  wide  enough 


THE   CABINET.  103 

to  admit  of  his  exit,  he  glided  out  like  a  bird  escaped 
from  his  cage. 

The  minister  went  on  writing  his  note  upon  his  knee. 

The  secretaries  were  redoubling  their  zeal  and  silence, 
when  the  two  wings  of  the  door  suddenly  thrown  back 
showed,  standing  in  the  opening,  a  Capuchin,  who  bow- 
ing, with  his  arms  crossed  over  his  breast,  seemed  wait- 
ing for  alms  or  for  an  order  to  retire.  He  had  a  dark 
complexion,  and  was  deeply  pitted  with  the  small-pox ; 
his  eyes  mild,  but  somewhat  squinting,  were  almost 
hidden  by  his  thick  eyebrows,  which  met  in  the  middle 
of  his  forehead  ;  on  his  mouth  played  a  crafty,  mis- 
chievous, and  sinister  smile ;  his  beard  was  straight 
and  red,  and  his  costume  that  of  the  order  of  Saint 
Francis  in  all  its  disgusting  details,  with  sandals  on 
his  bare  feet,  that  looked  altogether  unworthy  to  tread 
upon  carpet. 

Such  as  he  was,  however,  this  personage  seemed  to 
create  a  great  sensation  throughout  the  room  ;  for  with- 
out finishing  the  phrase,  the  line,  or  even  the  word  com- 
menced, every  person  rose  and  went  out  by  the  door 
where  he  was  still  standing, —  some  saluting  him  as  they 
passed,  others  turning  away  their  heads,  and  the  young 
pages  holding  their  fingers  to  their  noses,  but  not  till 
they  were  behind  him,  for  they  seemed  to  have  a  secret 
fear  of  him.  When  they  had  all  passed  out,  he  entered, 
making  a  profound  reverence,  because  the  door  was  still 
open ;  but  as  soon  as  it  was  shut,  unceremoniously  ad- 
vancing, he  seated  himself  near  the  cardinal,  who,  hav- 
ing recognized  him  by  the  general  movement  he  created, 
saluted  him  with  a  dry  and  silent  inclination  of  the  head, 


104  CINQ-MARS. 

regarding  him  fixedly,  as  if  awaiting  some  intelligence, 
and  unable  to  avoid  knitting  his  brows,  as  at  the  aspect 
of  a  spider  or  some  other  disagreeable  creature. 

The  cardinal  had  been  unable  to  resist  this  movement 
of  displeasure,  because  he  felt  himself  obliged,  by  the 
presence  of  his  agent,  to  resume  those  profound  and 
painful  conversations  from  which  he  had  for  some  days 
been  free,  in  a  country  whose  pure  air,  favorable  to  him, 
had  somewhat  mitigated  the  pain  of  his  malady ;  that 
malady  had  changed  to  a  slow  fever,  but  its  intervals 
were  long  enough  to  enable  him  to  forget  during  its 
absence  that  it  must  return.  Giving,  therefore,  a  little 
rest  to  his  hitherto  indefatigable  mind,  he  had  been 
awaiting,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  perhaps,  without 
impatience,  the  return  of  the  couriers  he  had  sent  in  all 
directions,  as  the  rays  of  a  sun  which  alone  gave  life 
and  movement  to  France.  He  had  not  expected  the 
visit  he  now  received,  and  the  sight  of  one  of  those 
men  whom,  to  use  his  own  expression,  he  steeped  in 
crime,  rendered  all  the  habitual  disquietudes  of  his 
life  more  present  to  him,  without  entirely  dissipating 
the  cloud  of  melancholy  which  just  then  obscured  his 
•thoughts. 

The  beginning  of  his  conversation  was  overcast  with 
the  gloomy  hue  of  his  late  reveries  ;  but  he  soon  issued 
from  them  more  animated  and  vigorous  than  ever, 
when  his  powerful  mind  had  perforce  re-entered  the 
real  world. 

His  confidant,  seeing  that  he  was  to  break  the  silence, 
did  so  in  this  abrupt  fashion,  — 

"  Well,  my  Lord,  of  what  are  you  thinking  ?  " 


THE  CABINET.  105 

"Alas,  Joseph,  of  what  should  we  all  think,  whoever 
we  be,  but  upon  our  future  happiness  in  a  better  life  ? 
For  many  days  past  I  have  been  reflecting  that  human 
interests  have  too  much  diverted  me  from  this  great 
thought;  and  I  repent  me  of  having  spent  some 
moments  of  my  leisure  in  profane  works,  such  as  my 
tragedies  of  '  Europe '  and  of  '  Mirame,'  despite  the 
glory  they  have  already  gained  me  among  our  greatest 
wits,  —  a  glory  which  will  extend  unto  futurity." 

Father  Joseph,  full  of  what  he  had  to  say,  was  at 
first  surprised  at  this  opening ;  but  he  knew  his  master 
too  well  to  manifest  his  feelings,  and  well  skilled  how 
to  change  the  direction  of  his  ideas,  replied,  — 

"  Yes,  their  merit  is  very  great,  and  France  will  see 
with  regret  that  these  immortal  works  are  not  followed 
by  others  like  them." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  Joseph ;  but  it  is  in  vain  that  such 
men  as  Boisrobert,  Claveret,  Colletet,  Corneille,  and, 
above  all,  the  celebrated  Mairet,  have  proclaimed  these 
tragedies  the  finest  that  the  present  or  any  past  age  has 
produced ;  I  reproach  myself  for  them,  I  swear  to  you, 
as  for  a  mortal  sin,  and  I  now,  in  my  hours  of  repose, 
only  occupy  myself  with  my  '  Methode  des  Contro- 
verses,'  and  my  book  on  the  '  Perfection  du  Chretien.' 
I  bear  in  mind  that  I  am  fifty-six  years  old,  and  that 
1  have  an  incurable  malady." 

"  These  are  calculations  which  your  enemies  make 
as  closely  as  your  Eminence,"  said  the  priest,  who  began 
to  be  annoyed  with  this  conversation,  and  was  eager  to 
proceed  to  other  matters. 

The  color  mounted  to  the  cardinal's  face. 


106  CINQ-MARS. 

"  I  know  it !  1  know  it  well !  "  he  said  ;  "  I  know  all 
their  black  villany,  and  1  am  prepared  for  it.  But  what 
then  is  there  new  ? " 

"According  to  our  arrangement,  my  Lord,  we  have 
removed  Mademoiselle  d'Hautefort,  as  Mademoiselle  de 
la  Fayette  before  her.  So  far  it  is  well ;  but  her  place  is 
not  supplied,  and  the  king — " 

"  Well ! " 

"  The  king  has  ideas  which  he  never  had  before." 

"  Hah  !  and  which  proceed  not  from  me  ?  'T  is  well, 
truly,"  said  the  minister,  with  an  angry  sneer. 

"  Why,  then,  my  Lord,  leave  the  place  of  the  favorite 
vacant  for  six  whole  days  ?  It  is  not  prudent ;  pardon 
me  for  saying  so." 

"  He  has  ideas,  —  ideas  !  "  repeated  Richelieu,  with  a 
kind  of  terror  ;  "  and  what  are  they  ?  " 

"  He  talks  of  recalling  the  queen-mother,"  said  the 
Capuchin,  in  a  low  voice ;  "  of  recalling  her  from 
Cologne." 

"  Marie  de  Mddicis !  "  cried  the  cardinal,  striking  the 
arms  of  his  chair  with  his  two  hands.  "  No,  by  Heaven, 
she  shall  not  again  set  her  foot  upon  the  soil  of  France, 
whence  I  drove  her,  step  by  step  !  England  has  not 
dared  to  receive  her,  exiled  by  me ;  Holland  fears  to 
be  crushed  by  her ;  and  my  kingdom  to  receive  her ! 
No,  no,  such  an  idea  could  not  have  originated  with 
himself  !  Recall  my  enemy !  recall  his  mother !  what 
perfidy  !  he  would  not  have  dared  to  think  of  it." 

Then,  having  mused  for  a  moment,  he  added,  fixing 
a  penetrating  look  still  full  of  fiery  anger  upon  Father 
Joseph, — 


THE   CABINET.  107 

"  But  iii  what  terms  did  he  express  this  desire  ? 
Tell  me  the  exact  words." 

"  He  said  publicly,  and  in  the  presence  of  Monsieur, 
'  I  feel  that  one  of  the  first  duties  of  a  Christian  is  to 
be  a  good  son,  and  I  will  not  resist  the  murmurs  of 
my  conscience.'" 

"  Christian !  conscience  !  these  are  not  his  expres- 
sions. It  is  Father  Caussin  ;  it  is  his  confessor  who  is 
betraying  me,"  cried  the  cardinal.  "  Perfidious  Jesuit ! 
I  pardoned  thee  thy  intrigue  with  La  Fayette  ;  but  1 
will  not  pass  over  thy  secret  counsels.  I  will  have  this 
confessor  dismissed,  Joseph ;  he  is  an  enemy  to  the 
State,  I  see  it  clearly.  But  I  myself  have  acted  with 
negligence  for  some  days  past;  I  have  not  sufficiently 
hastened  the  arrival  of  the  young  D'Effiat,  who  will 
doubtless  succeed.  He  is  handsome  and  intellectual, 
they  say.  What  a  blunder  !  I  myself  merit  disgrace. 
To  leave  that  fox  of  a  Jesuit  with  the  king,  without 
having  given  him  my  secret  instructions,  without  a 
hostage,  a  pledge  for  his  fidelity  to  my  orders  !  What 
neglect !  Joseph,  take  a  pen,  and  write  what  I  shall 
dictate  for  the  other  confessor,  whom  we  will  choose 
better.  I  think  of  Father  Sirmond." 

Father  Joseph  sat  down  at  the  large  table,  ready  to 
write,  and  the  cardinal  dictated  to  him  those  duties  of  a 
new  kind,  which  shortly  afterwards  he  dared  to  have 
given  to  the  king,  who  received  them,  respected  them, 
and  learned  them  by  heart  as  the  commandments  of 
the  Church.  They  have  come  down  to  us,  —  a  painful 
monument  of  the  empire  that  a  man  may  seize  upon 
by  means  of  circumstances,  intrigues,  and  audacity: 


108  CINQ-MARS. 

"LA  prince  should  have  a  prime  minister,  and  that  min- 
ister three  qualities  :  (1)  He  should  have  no  passion  but  for 
his  prince ;  (2)  He  should  be  able  and  faithful ;  (3)  He 
should  be  an  ecclesiastic. 

"II.  A  prince  ought  perfectly  to  love  his  prime  minister. 

"  III.  Ought  never  to  change  his  prime  minister. 

"  IV.  Ought  to  tell  him  all  things. 

"  V.  To  give  him  free  access  to  his  person. 

"  VI.  To  give  him  sovereign  authority  over  his  people. 

"  VII.  Great  honors  and  large  possessions. 

"  VIII.  A  prince  has  no  treasure  more  precious  than  his 
prime  minister. 

"IX.  A  prince  should  not  put  faith  in  what  people  sa}- 
against  his  prime  minister,  nor  listen  to  any  such  slanders. 

"  X.  A  prince  should  reveal  to  his  prime  minister  all  that 
is  said  against  him,  even  though  he  has  been  bound  to  keep 
it  secret. 

"XI.  A  prince  should  prefer  not  only  the  well-being  of 
the  State,  but  also  his  prime  minister,  to  all  his  relations." 

Such  were  the  commandments  of  the  god  of  France, 
even  less  astonishing  in  themselves  than  the  terrible 
naivet£  which  made  him  bequeath  them  to  posterity, 
as  if  posterity  also  were  to  believe  in  him. 

While  he  dictated  his  instructions,  reading  them 
from  a  small  piece  of  paper,  written  with  his  own  hand, 
a  profound  melancholy  seemed  to  gain  possession  of 
him  more  and  more  at  each  successive  word ;  and  when 
he  had  ended,  he  fell  back  in  his  chair,  his  arms  crossed, 
and  his  head  sunk  on  his  breast. 

Father  Joseph,  quitting  his  pen,  arose  and  was  inquir- 
ing whether  he  were  ill,  when  he  heard  issue  from  the 
depths  of  his  chest  these  mournful  and  memorable 
words,  — 


THE   CABINET.  109 

"  What  utter  weariness  !  what  endless  disgust !  If 
the  ambitious  man  could  see  me,  he  would  flee  to  a 
desert.  What  is  my  power?  A  miserable  reflection 
of  the  royal  power;  and  what  labors  to  fix  upon  my 
star  that  incessantly  wavering  ray  !  For  twenty  years 
I  have  been  in  vain  attempting  it.  I  cannot  compre- 
hend that  man.  He  dare  not  flee  me  ;  but  they  take 
him  from  me,  —  he  glides  through  my  fingers.  What 
things  could  I  not  have  done  with  his  hereditary  rights, 
had  I  possessed  them  ?  But  employing  such  infinite 
calculation  in  merely  keeping  one's  balance,  what  of 
genius  remains  for  high  enterprises  ?  I  hold  Europe 
in  my  hand,  and  I  myself  am  suspended  by  a  trembling 
hair.  What  is  it  to  me  that  I  can  cast  my  eyes  confi- 
dently over  the  map  of  Europe,  when  all  my  interests 
are  concentred  in  his  narrow  cabinet,  and  its  few  feet 
of  space  give  me  more  trouble  to  govern  than  the  whole 
country  besides  ?  See  then  what  is  a  prime  minister ! 
Envy  me  my  guards,  if  ye  can." 

His  features  were  so  contorted  as  to  give  reason  to 
fear  some  accident;  and  at  the  same  moment  he  was 
seized  with  a  long  and  violent  fit  of  coughing,  which 
ended  in  a  slight  expectoration  of  blood.  He  saw  that 
Father  Joseph,  alarmed,  was  going  to  seize  a  gold  bell 
that  stood  on  the  table,  and  suddenly  rising  with  all 
the  vigor  of  a  young  man,  he  stopped  him,  saying,  — 

"  'T  is  nothing,  Joseph ;  I  sometimes  give  way  to  these 
fits  of  depression ;  but  they  do  not  last  long,  and  I  quit 
them  stronger  than  before  they  came  on.  As  for  my 
health,  I  know  perfectly  how  I  stand ;  but  that  is  not 
the  business  in  hand.  What  have  you  done  at  Paris  ? 


110  CINQ-MARS. 

I  am  glad  to  find  the  king  has  arrived  in  Be'arn,  as  I 
wished  him ;  we  shall  be  able  to  keep  a  closer  eye  upon 
him.  By  what  inducement  did  you  get  him  away  ?" 

"  A  battle  at  Perpignan." 

"  Come,  that  is  not  bad.  Well,  we  can  arrange  that 
for  him ;  the  occupation  will  do  as  well  as  another  just 
now.  But  the  young  queen,  the  young  queen,  what  says 
she?" 

"  She  is  still  furious  against  you  ;  her  correspondence 
discovered,  the  questioning  to  which  you  had  subjected 
her  —  " 

"  Bah !  a  madrigal  and  a  momentary  submission  will 
make  her  forget  that  I  have  separated  her  from  her 
house  of  Austria  and  from  the  country  of  her  Bucking- 
ham. But  what  does  she  occupy  herself  with  ?  " 

"  Machinations  with  Monsieur.  But  as  we  have  his 
entire  confidence,  here  are  the  daily  accounts  of  their 
interviews." 

"  I  shall  not  trouble  myself  to  read  them ;  while  the 
Due  de  Bouillon  remains  in  Italy,  I  have  nothing  to 
fear  in  that  quarter.  She  may  have  as  many  petty  plots 
with  Gaston  in  the  chimney  corner  as  she  pleases ;  he 
never  got  beyond  his  excellent  intentions,  forsooth.  He 
carries  nothing  into  effect  but  his  withdrawal  from  the 
kingdom.  He  has  had  his  third  now,  I  will  manage  a 
fourth  for  him  whenever  he  pleases;  he  is  not  worth 
the  pistol-shot  you  had  the  Comte  de  Soissons  settled 
with,  and  yet  the  poor  comte  had  scarce  more  energy 
than  he." 

And  the  cardinal,  reseating  himself  in  his  chair,  began 
to  laugh  gayly  enough  for  a  statesman. 


THE   CABINET.  Ill 

"  I  always  laugh  when  I  think  of  their  expedition  to 
Amiens.  They  had  me  between  them.  Each  had  full 
five  hundred  gentlemen  with  him,  armed  to  the  teeth, 
and  all  going  to  despatch  me,  like  Concini ;  but  the  big 
Vitry  was  not  there.  They  very  quietly  let  me  talk  for 
an  hour  with  them  about  the  hunt  and  the  Fete  Dieu, 
and  neither  of  them  dared  make  a  sign  to  their  cut- 
throats. I  have  since  learned  from  Chavigny  that  for  two 
long  months  had  they  been  waiting  that  happy  moment. 
For  myself,  indeed,  I  observed  nothing  of  it,  except  that 
little  villain,  the  Abbe"  de  Gondi,1  who  prowled  near  me, 
and  seemed  to  have  something  hidden  under  his  sleeve  ; 
it  was  he  that  made  me  get  into  the  coach." 

"  Apropos  of  the  abbe*,  my  Lord,  the  queen  insists  upon 
making  him  coadjutor." 

"  She 's  mad  !  he  will  ruin  her  if  she  connects  herself 
with  him ;  he 's  a  musketeer  in  canonicals,  the  Devil  in 
a  cassock.  Read  his  *  Histoire  de  Fiesque ; '  you  may 
see  himself  in  it.  He  will  be  nothing  while  I  live." 

"  How  is  it  that  with  a  judgment  like  yours  you 
bring  another  ambitious  man  of  his  age  to  court  ? " 

"  It  is  an  entirely  different  matter.  This  young  Cinq- 
Mars,  my  friend,  will  be  a  puppet,  a  mere  puppet.  He 
will  think  of  nothing  but  his  ruff  and  his  shoulder- 
knots  ;  his  handsome  figure  assures  me  of  this.  I  know 
that  he  is  gentle  and  infirm  of  purpose ;  it  was  for  this 
reason  I  preferred  him  to  his  elder  brother.  He  will  do 
all  we  wish." 

"  Ah,  my  Lord,"  said  the  monk,  with  an  expression  of 
doubt,  "I  never  place  much  reliance  on  people  whose 

1  Afterwards  the  Cardinal  de  Retz. 


112  CINQ-MARS. 

exterior  is  so  calm ;  the  flame  within  is  often  all  the 
more  dangerous.  Recollect  the  Marechal  d'Effiat,  his 
father." 

"  But  I  tell  you  he  is  a  boy,  and  I  shall  bring  him  up  ; 
while  Gondi  is  already  an  accomplished  conspirator,  an 
ambitious  knave  who  sticks  at  nothing.  He  has  dared  to 
dispute  Madame  de  la  Meilleraie  with  me.  Can  you  con- 
ceive it  ?  He  dispute  with  me  !  A  petty  priestling,  who 
has  no  other  merit  than  a  little  lively  tittle-tattle  and 
a  cavalier  air.  Fortunately,  the  husband  himself  took 
care  to  get  rid  of  him." 

Father  Joseph,  who  listened  with  equal  impatience  to 
his  master  when  he  spoke  of  his  bonnes  fortunes  and 
when  he  talked  of  his  verses,  made,  however,  a  grimace 
which  he  meant  to  be  very  sly  and  insinuating,  but 
which  was  simply  unsightly  and  awkward ;  he  fancied 
that  the  expression  of  his  mouth,  twisted  about  like  a 
monkey's,  conveyed,  "  Ah !  who  can  resist  your  Emi- 
nence ? "  But  his  Eminence  only  read  there,  "  I  am  a 
clownish  pedant  who  knows  nothing  of  the  great  world.; " 
and  without  changing  his  voice,  he  suddenly  said,  taking 
up  a  despatch  from  the  table,— 

"  The  Due  de  Rohan  is  dead,  that  is  good  news ;  the 
Huguenots  are  ruined.  He 's  a  lucky  man.  1  had  him 
condemned  by  the  parliament  of  Toulouse  to  be  torn  in 
pieces  by  four  horses,  and  here  he  dies  quietly  on  the 
battle-field  of  Rhinfeld.  But  what  matters  ?  The  result 
is  the  same.  There's  another  great  head  laid  low! 
How  they  have  fallen  since  that  of  Montmorency  !  1 
now  scarcely  see  any  that  do  not  bow  before  me.  We 
have  already  punished  almost  all  our  dupes  of  Versailles ; 


THE   CABINET.  113 

assuredly  they  have  nothing  wherewith  to  reproach  ine. 
I  simply  exercise  against  them  the  law  of  retaliation, 
treating  them  as  they  would  have  treated  me  in  the 
council  of  the  queen-mother.  The  old  dotard  Bassom- 
pierre  shall  he  quit  for  perpetual  imprisonment,  and  so 
shall  the  assassin  Marechal  de  Vitry,  for  that  was  the 
punishment  they  voted  me.  As  for  Marillac,  who  coun- 
selled death,  I  reserve  death  for  him  at  the  first  false  step 
he  makes,  and  I  beg  thee,  Joseph,  to  remind  me  of  him ; 
we  must  be  just  to  all.  There  's  the  Due  de  Bouillon  still 
keeps  up  his  head  proudly  on  account  of  his  Sedan,  but 
I  '11  make  him  give  wav.  Their  blindness  is  trulv  mar- 

o  •/  •/ 

vellous  !  They  think  themselves  all  free  to  conspire, 
not  perceiving  that  they  are  merely  fluttering  at  the 
end  of  the  threads  that  J  hold  in  my  hand,  and  which 
I  lengthen  now  and  then  to  give  them  air  and  space. 
Did  the  Huguenots  yell  as  one  man  at  the  death  of 
their  dear  due  ? " 

"  Less  so  than  at  the  affair  of  Loudun,  which  is 
happily  concluded." 

"  How !  happily  ?     I  hope  that  Grandier  is  dead  ? " 

"  Yes ;  that  is  what  I  meant.  Your  Eminence  may 
be  fully  satisfied.  All  was  settled  in  twenty-four  hours, 
he  is  no  longer  thought  of.  Only  Laubardemont  com- 
mitted a  slight  blunder  in  making  the  sitting  public. 
This  caused  a  little  tumult ;  but  we  have  a  description  of 
the  rioters,  and  measures  are  taken  to  seek  them  out." 

"  This  is  well,  very  well.  Urbain  was  too  superior  a 
man  to  be  left  there ;  he  was  turning  Protestant.  I 
would  bet  that  he  would  have  ended  by  abjuring.  His 
work  against  the  celibacy  of  priests  made  me  conjecture 

VOL.  I.  —  8 


114  CINQ-MARS. 

this  ;  and  in  cases  of  dcubt,  remember,  Joseph,  it  is 
always  best  to  cut  the  tree  before  the  fruit  is  gathered. 
These  Huguenots,  you  see,  are  a  regular  republic  in  the 
State.  If  once  they  had  a  majority  in  France,  the  mon- 
archy would  be  lost ;  they  would  establish  some  popular 
government  which  might  be  durable." 

"  And  what  deep  pain  do  they  daily  cause  our  holy 
Father  the  Pope!"  said  Joseph. 

"  Ah,"  interrupted  the  cardinal,  "  I  see ;  thou  wouldst 
remind  me  of  his  obstinacy  in  not  giving  thee  the  hat. 
Be  tranquil ;  I  will  speak  to-day  on  the  subject  to  the 
new  ambassador  we  are  sending,  the  Mare*chal  d'Estre'es, 
and  he  will,  on  his  arrival,  doubtless  obtain  that  which 
has  been  in  train  these  two  years,  thy  nomination  to  the 
cardinalate.  t  myself  begin  to  think  that  the  purple 
would  become  thee  well,  for  it  does  not  show  blood- 
stains." 

And  both  burst  into  laughter,  —  the  -one  as  a  master, 
overwhelming  the  assassin  whom  he  pays  with  his  utter 
scorn,  the  other  as  a  slave  resigned  to  all  the  humilia- 
tions by  which  he  rises. 

The  laughter  which  the  ferocious  pleasantry  of  the 
old  minister  had  excited  had  scarce  subsided,  when  the 
door  of  the  cabinet  opened,  and  a  page  announced  several 
couriers  who  had  arrived  simultaneously  from  different 
points ;  Father  Joseph  arose,  and  standing,  his  back 
leaning  against  the  wall  like  an  Egyptian  mummy, 
allowed  nothing  to  appear  upon  his  face  but  a  stolid 
contemplation.  Twelve  messengers  entered  successively, 
attired  in  various  disguises ;  one  seemed  a  Swiss  soldier, 
another  a  sutler,  a  third  a  master-mason.  They  were 


RICHELIEU  AND  JOSEPH 


THE   CABINET.  115 

introduced  into  the  palace  by  a  secret  staircase  and 
corridor,  and  left  the  cabinet  by  a  door  opposite  that  at 
which  they  had  entered,  without  any  opportunity  of 
meeting  one  another  or  communicating  aught  of  their 
despatches.  Each  laid  a  rolled  or  folded  packet  of  pa- 
pers on  the  large  table,  spoke  for  a  moment  with  the 
cardinal  in  the  embrasure  of  a  window,  and  withdrew. 
Richelieu  had  risen  on  the  entrance  of  the  first  mes- 
senger, and,  careful  to  do  all  himself,  had  received  them 
all,  listened  to  all,  and  with  his  own  hand  closed  the 
door  upon  all.  When  the  last  was  gone,  he  signed  to 
Father  Joseph,  and  without  speaking,  both  proceeded  to 
open,  or  rather  to  tear  open,  the  packets  of  despatches, 
and  in  a  few  words  communicated  to  one  another  the 
substance  of  the  letters. 

"  The  Due  de  Weimar  pursues  his  advantage ;  the 
Due  Charles  is  defeated.  Our  general  is  in  good  spirits ; 
here  are  some  of  his  exhilarant  remarks  at  table. 
Good  ! " 

"  Monseigneur  le  Vicomte  de  Turenne  has  retaken 
the  towns  of  Lorraine ;  and  here  are  his  private  con- 
versations —  " 

"  Oh !  pass  over  them ;  they  cannot  be  dangerous.  He 
is  ever  a  good  and  honest  man,  in  no  way  mixing  him- 
self up  with  politics  :  so  that  he  be  given  a  little  army 
to  play  at  chess  with,  no  matter  against  whom,  he  is 
content.  We  shall  always  be  very  good  friends." 

"  The  Long  Parliament  still  endures  in  England.  The 
Commons  pursue  their  project ;  here  are  massacres  in 
Ireland.  The  Earl  of  Straff ord  is  condemned  to 
death." 


116  CINQ-MARS. 

"  To  death !   horrible  ! " 

"  I  will  read :  '  His  Majesty  Charles  I.  has  not  had  the 
courage  to  sign  the  sentence,  but  he  has  appointed  four 
commissioners.' " 

. "  Weak  king,  I  abandon  thee.  Thou  shalt  have  no 
more  of  our  money.  Fall,  since  thou  art  ungrateful ! 
Unhappy  Wentworth  ! " 

A  tear  rose  in  the  eyes  of  Richelieu  as  he  said  this ; 
the  man  who  had  but  just  played  with  the  lives  of  so 
many  others  wept  for  a  minister  abandoned  by  his 
prince.  The  relation  between  that  position  and  his  own 
affected  him,  and  it  was  himself  he  wept  in  the  person 
of  the  foreign  minister.  He  ceased  to  read  aloud  the 
despatches  that  he  opened,  and  his  confidant  followed 
his  example.  He  examined  with  scrupulous  attention 
the  detailed  accounts  of  the  most  minute  and  most  secret 
actions  of  each  person  of  any  importance,  —  accounts 
which  he  always  required  to  be  added  to  the  official 
despatches,  by  his  able  spies.  The  despatches  to  the 
king  all  passed  through  his  hands,  and  were  carefully 
revised  so  as  to  reach  the  king  amended  to  the  state  in 
which  he  wished  him  to  read  them.  The  private  notes 
were  all  carefully  burned  by  the  morik  when  the  car- 
dinal had  ascertained  their  contents.  The  latter,  how- 
ever, seemed  by  no  means  satisfied,  and  he  was  walking 
quickly  up  and  down  the  apartment  with  gestures  ex- 
pressive of  anxiety,  when  the  door  opened,  and  a  thir- 
teenth courier  entered.  This  one  seemed  a  boy  of 
scarce  fourteen  ;  he  held  under  his  arm  a  packet  sealed 
with  black  for  the  king,  and  gave  to  the  cardinal  only  a 
small  letter,  of  which  a  stolen  glance  from  Joseph  could 


THE   CABINET.  117 

collect  but  four  words.  The  due  started,  tore  the  billet 
into  a  thousand  pieces,  and  bending  down  to  the  ear  of 
the  boy,  spoke  to  him  for  a  long  time ;  all  that  Joseph 
heard  was,  as  the  messenger  went  out :  — 

"  Take  good  heed  to  this  ;  not  until  twelve  hours  from 
this  time" 

During  this  aside  of  the  cardinal,  Joseph  was  occupied 
in  concealing  an  infinite  number  of  libels  from  Flanders 
and  Germany,  which  the  minister  ever  insisted  upon 
seeing,  however  bitter  they  might  be  to  him.  In  this 
respect,  he  affected  a  philosophy  which  he  was  far  from 
possessing,  and  to  deceive  those  around  him  he  would 
sometimes  pretend  that  his  enemies  were  not  wholly 
wrong,  and  would  outwardly  laugh  at  their  pleasantries  ; 
but  those  who  knew  his  character  better  detected  bitter 
rage  lurking  under  this  apparent  moderation,  and  knew 
that  he  was  never  satisfied  until  he  had  got  the  hostile 
book  condemned  by  the  parliament  to  be  burned  in  the 
Place  de  Greve,  as  "  injurious  to  the  king,  in  the  person 
of  his  minister,  the  most  illustrious  cardinal,"  as  we 
read  in  the  decrees  of  the  time,  and  that  his  only  regret 
was  that  the  author  was  not  in  the  place  of  his  book,  — 
a  satisfaction  he  gave  himself  whenever  he  could,  as  in 
the  case  of  Urbain  Grandier. 

It  was  his  colossal  pride  which  he  thus  avenged,  without 
avowing  it  even  to  himself,  —  nay,  laboring  for  a  length 
of  time,  sometimes  for  a  whole  twelvemonth  together,  to 
persuade  himself  that  the  interest  of  the  State  was  con- 
cerned in  the  matter.  Ingenious  in  connecting  his  pri- 
vate affairs  with  the  affairs  of  France,  he  had  convinced 
himself  that  she  bled  from  the  wounds  which  he  re- 


118  CINQ-MARS. 

ceived.  Joseph,  careful  not  to  irritate  his  ill  temper  at 
this  moment,  put  aside  and  concealed  a  book,  entitled, 
"Mysteries  Politiques  du  Cardinal  de  la  Rochelle;" 
also  another,  attributed  to  a  monk  of  Munich,  entitled, 
"  Questions  quolibetiques,  ajuste'es  au  temps  present,  et 
Impie'td  Sanglante  du  dicu  Mars."  The  worthy  advocate 
Aubery,  who  has  given  us  one  of  the  most  faithful  his- 
tories of  the  most  eminent  cardinal,  is  transported  with 
rage  at  the  mere  title  of  the  first  of  these  books,  and 

D  ' 

exclaims  that  "  the  great  minister  had  good  reason  to 
glorify  himself  that  his  enemies,  inspired  against  their 
will  with  the  same  enthusiasm  which  conferred  the  gift 
of  rendering  oracles  upon  the  ass  of  Balaam,  upon  Caia- 
phas  and  others,  who  seemed  most  unworthy  of  the  gift 
of  prophecy,  called  him  with  good  reason  Cardinal  de 
la  Rochelle,  since  three  years  after  their  writing  he  re- 
duced that  town ;  thus  Scipio  was  called  Africanus  for 
having  subjugated  that  PROVINCE  ! "  Very  little  was 
wanting  to  make  Father  Joseph,  who  had  necessarily 
the  same  feelings,  express  his  indignation  in  the  same 
terms ;  for  he  remembered  with  bitterness  the  ridicu- 
lous part  he  had  played  in  the  siege  of  Rochelle,  which, 
though  not  a  province  like  Africa,  had  ventured  to  resist 
the  most  eminent  cardinal,  and  into  which  Father  Joseph, 
piquing  himself  on  his  military  skill,  had  proposed  to 
introduce  the  troops  through  a  sewer.  However,  he  re- 
strained himself,  and  had  time  to  Conceal  the  libel  in 
the  pocket  of  his  brown  robe  ere  the  minister  had  dis- 
missed his  young  courier,  and  returned  to  the  table. 

"  And  now  to  depart,  Joseph,"  he  said.     "  Open  the 
doors  to  all  that  court  which  besieges  me,  and  let  us  go 


THE   CABINET.  119 

to  the  king,  who  awaits  me  at  Perpignan  ;  this  time  I 
have  him  for  good." 

The  Capuchin  drew  back,  and  immediately  the  pages, 
throwing  open  the  gilded  doors,  announced  in  succession 
the  greatest  lords  of  the  period,  who  had  obtained  per- 
mission from  the  king  to  come  and  salute  the  minister. 
Some,  even,  under  the  pretext  of  sickness  or  business 
had  departed  secretly,  in  order  not  to  be  among  the  last 
at  Richelieu's  levee  ;  and  the  unhappy  monarch  found 
himself  almost  as  alone  as  other  kings  find  themselves 
on  their  death-beds.  But  with  him,  the  throne  seemed, 
in  the  eyes  of  the  court,  his  dying  couch,  his  reign  a 
continual  last  agony,  and  his  minister  a  threatening- 
successor. 

Two  pages,  of  the  first  families  of  France,  stood  at  the 
door,  where  the  ushers  announced  each  of  the  persons 
whom  Father  Joseph  had  found  in  the  anteroom.  The 
cardinal,  still  seated  in  his  great  armchair,  remained 
motionless  as  the  common  courtiers  entered,  inclined 
his  head  to  the  most  distinguished,  and  to  princes  alone 
put  his  hands  on  the  elbows  of  his  chair  and  slightly 
rose ;  each  person,  having  profoundly  saluted  him,  stood 
before  him  near  the  fireplace,  waited  till  he  had  spoken 
to  him,  and  then,  at  the  motion  of  his  hand,  completed 
the  circle  of  the  room,  and  went  out  by  the  same  door 
at  which  he  had  entered,  paused  for  a  moment  to  salute 
Father  Joseph,  who  aped  his  master,  and  who  for  that 
reason  had  been  named  his  Gray  Eminence,  and  at  last 
quitted  the  palace,  unless,  indeed,  he  remained  standing 
behind  the  chair,  at  the  minister's  intimation  to  that 
effect,  which  was  considered  a  token  of  very  great  favor. 


1-0  CINQ-MARS. 

He  let  pass  several  insignificant  persons,  and  many 
whose  merits  were  useless  to  him ;  the  first  whom  he 
stopped  in  the  procession  was  the  Mardchal  d'Estre"es, 
who,  then  about  to  set  out  on  an  embassy  to  Rome,  came 
to  make  his  adieux ;  all  behind  him  stopped  short.  This 
circumstance  gave  notice  to  the  anteroom  that  a  longer 
conversation  than  usual  was  on  foot,  and  Father  Joseph, 
advancing  to  the  threshold,  exchanged  with  the  cardinal 
a  glance  which  seemed  to  say,  on  the  one  side,  "  Re- 
member the  promise  you  just  made  me,"  on  the  other, 
"  Set  your  mind  at  rest."  At  the  same  time,  the  expert 
Capuchin  let  his  master  see  that  he  held  upon  his  arm 
one  of  his  victims,  whom  he  was  forming  into  a  docile 
instrument ;  this  was  a  young  gentleman  who  wore  a 
very  short  green  cloak,  a  pourpoint  of  the  same  color, 
close-fitting  red  breeches,  with  glittering  gold  garters 
below  the  knee,  —  the  costume  of  the  pages  of  Mon- 
sieur. Father  Joseph,  indeed,  spoke  to  him  secretly, 
but  not  in  the  way  the  cardinal  imagined ;  for  he  con- 
templated being  his  equal,  and  was  preparing  other 
connections,  in  case  of  defection  on  the  part  of  the 
prime  minister. 

"  Tell  Monsieur  not  to  trust  in  appearances,  and  that 
he  has  no  servant  more  faithful  than  I.  The  cardinal 
is  on  the  decline,  and  my  conscience  tells  me  to  warn 
against  his  faults  him  who  may  inherit  the  royal  power 
during  the  minority.  To  give  your,  great  prince  a  proof 
of  my  faith,  tell  him  that  it  is  intended  to  arrest  his 
friend,  Puy-Laurens,  and  that  he  had  better  be  kept 
out  of  the  way,  or  the  cardinal  will  put  him  in  the 
Bastille." 


THE   CABINET.  121 

While  the  servant  was  thus  betraying  his  master, 
the  master,  not  to  be  behindhand  with  him,  betrayed 
his  servant.  His  self-love,  and  some  remnant  of  re- 
spect to  the  Church,  made  him  shudder  at  the  idea  of 
seeing  a  contemptible  agent  invested  with  the  same 
hat  which  he  himself  wore  as  a  crown,  and  seated  as 
high  as  himself,  except  as  to  the  precarious  position 
of  minister.  Speaking,  therefore,  in  an  undertone  to 
the  Mare"chal  d'Estrees,  he  said,  — 

"It  is  not  necessary  to  importune  Urban  VIII.  any 
further  in  favor  of  the  Capuchin  you  see  yonder ;  it  is 
enough  that  his  Majesty  has  deigned  to  name  him  for 
the  cardinalate.  One  can  readily  conceive  the  repug- 
nance, of  his  Holiness  to  clothe  this  mendicant  in  the 
Roman  purple.'* 

Then  passing  on  to  general  matters,  he  continued,  — 

"  Truly,  I  know  not  what  can  have  cooled  the  holy 
Father  towards  us ;  what  have  we  done  that  was  not  for 
the  glory  of  our  holy  Mother,  the  Catholic  Church  ?  I 
myself  said  the  first  mass  at  Rochelle,  and  you  see  for 
yourself,  M.  le  Mare'chal,  that  our  habit  is  everywhere ; 
and  even  in  your  armies,  the  Cardinal  de  la  Vallette 
has  commanded  gloriously  in  the  palatinate." 

"And  has  just  made  a  very  fine  retreat"  said  the 
marechal,  laying  a  slight  emphasis  upon  the  word. 

The  minister  continued,  without  paying  any  attention 
to  this  little  ebullition  of  professional  jealousy,  and 
raising  his  voice,  said, — 

"  God  has  proved  that  he  did  not  scorn  to  send  the 
spirit  of  victory  upon  his  Levites,  for  the  Due  de 
Weimar  did  not  more  powerfully  aid  in  the  conquest 


122  CINQ-MARS. 

of  Lorraine  than  did  this  pious  cardinal,  and  never  was 
a  naval  army  better  commanded  than  by  our  Archbishop 
of  Bordeaux  at  Rochelle." 

It  was  well  known  that  at  this  very  moment  the  minis- 
ter was  incensed  against  this  prelate,  whose  haughtiness 
was  so  overbearing,  and  whose  impertinent  ebullitions 
were  so  frequent  as  to  have  involved  him  in  two  very 
disagreeable  affairs  at  Bordeaux.  Four  years  before, 
the  Due  d'Epernon,  then  governor  of  Guyenne,  fol- 
lowed by  all  his  train  and  by  his  troops,  meeting  him 
in  the  midst  of  his  clergy  in  a  procession,  called  him 
an  insolent  fellow,  and  gave  him  two  smart  blows  with 
his  cane;  whereupon  the  archbishop  excommunicated 
him.  And  again,  recently,  despite  this  lesson,  he  had 
quarrelled  with  the  Mare'chal  de  Vitry,  from  whom  he 
had  received  "  twenty  blows  with  a  cane  or  stick,  which 
you  please"  wrote  the  cardinal-due  to  the  Cardinal  de 
la  Vallette,  "  and  I  think  he  would  like  to  excommunicate 
all  France."  In  fact,  he  did  excommunicate  the  mare*- 
chal's  baton,  remembering  that  in  the  former  case  the 
pope  had  obliged  the  Due  d'Epernon  to  ask  his  pardon  ; 
but  M.  Vitry,  who  had  caused  the  Mare'chal  d'Ancre  to 
be  assassinated,  stood  too  well  at  court  for  that,  and  the 
archbishop,  in  addition  to  his  beating,  got  well  scolded 
by  the  minister. 

M.  d'Estre'es  thought,  therefore,  with  tact,  that  there 
might  be  some  irony  in  the  cardinal's  manner  of  re- 
ferring to  the  warlike  talents  of  the  archbishop,  and 
he  answered  with  perfect  sang-froid,  — 

"  It  is  true,  my  Lord,  no  one  can  say  that  't  was  upon 
the  sea  he  was  beaten." 


THE   CABINET.  123 

His  Eminence  could  not  restrain  a  smile  at  this  ;  but 
seeing  that  the  electrical  effect  of  that  smile  had  created 
others  in  the  hall,  as  well  as  whisperings  and  conjec- 
tures, he  immediately  resumed  his  gravity,  and  familiarly 
taking  the  marshal's  arm,  said  ,  — 

"  Come,  come,  M.  1'Ambassadeur,  you  are  ready  at 
repartee.  With  you  I  should  not  fear  Cardinal 
Albornos,  or  all  the  Borgias  in  the  world,  or  all  the 
efforts  of  their  Spain  with  the  holy  Father." 

Then,  raising  his  voice,  and  looking  round  him,  as 
if  addressing  himself  to  the  silent,  and,  so  to  speak, 
captive  assembly,  he  continued,— 

"  I  hope  that  we  shall  no  more  be  reproached,  as 
formerly,  for  having  formed  an  alliance  with  one  of  the 
greatest  men  of  our  day ;  but  as  Gustavus  Adolphus  is 
dead,  the  Catholic  king  will  no  longer  have  any  pretext 
for  soliciting  the  excommunication  of  the  most  Christian 
king.  How  say  you,  my  dear  Lord  ? "  addressing  himself 
to  the  Cardinal  de  la  Yallette,  who  now  approached, 
fortunately  without  having  heard  the  late  allusion  to 
himself.  "  M.  d'Estre'es,  remain  near  our  chair ;  we 
have  still  many  things  to  say  to  you,  and  you  are  not 
one  too  many  in  our  conversations,  for  we  have  no 
secrets.  Our  policy  is  frank,  and  open  to  all  men ;  the 
interest  of  his  Majesty  and  of  the  State, — nothing 
more." 

The  mare'chal  made  a  profound  bow,  fell  back  behind 
the  chair  of  the  minister,  and  gave  place  to  the  Cardinal 
de  la  Vallette,  who,  incessantly  bowing  and  flattering  and 
swearing  devotion  and  entire  obedience  to  the  cardinal, 
as  if  to  expiate  the  obduracy  of  his  father  the  Due 


124  CINQ-MARS. 

d'Epernon,  received  in  return  a  few  vague  words,  to  no 
meaning  or  purpose,  the  cardinal  all  the  while  looking 
towards  the  door,  to  see  who  should  follow.  He  had 
even  the  mortification  to  find  himself  abruptly  inter- 
rupted by  the  minister,  who  cried  at  the  most  flattering 
period  of  his  honeyed  discourse, — 

"  Ah !  is  that  you  at  last,  my  dear  Fabert  ?  How  I 
have  longed  to  see  you,  to  talk  of  the  siege !  " 

The  general,  with  a  brusque  and  awkward  manner, 
saluted  the  cardinal-generalissimo,  and  presented  to  him 
the  officers  who  had  come  from  the  camp  with  him. 
He  talked  some  time  of  the  operations  of  the  siege,  and 
the  cardinal  seemed,  as  it  were,  to  be  paying  him  court 
now,  in  order  to  prepare  him  afterwards  for  receiving 
his  orders  even  on  the  field  of  battle  ;  he  spoke  to  the 
officers  who  accompanied  him,  calling  them  by  their 
names,  and  questioning  them  about  the  camp. 

They  all  stood  aside  to  make  way  for  the  Due  d'An- 
goul(;nie,  —  that  Valois,  who,  after  having  struggled 
against  Henri  IV.,  now  prostrated  himself  before 
Richelieu.  He  solicited  a  command,  having  been  only 
third  in  rank  at  the  siege  of  Rochelle.  After  him 
came  young  Mazarin,  ever  supple  and  insinuating,  but 
already  confident  in  his  fortune. 

The  Due  d'Halluin  came  after  them ;  the  cardinal 
broke  off  the  compliments  he  was  addressing  to  the 
others,  to  utter  in  a  loud  voic^, — 

"  M.  le  Due,  I  inform  you  with  pleasure  that  the 
king  has  made  you  a  marshal  of  France  ;  you  will 
sign  yourself  Schomberg,  will  you  not,  at  Leucate, 
delivered,  as  we  hope,  by  you  ?  But  pardon  me,  here 


THE   CABINET.  125 

is  M.  de  Montauron,  who  has  doubtless  something 
important  to  communicate." 

"  Oh,  no,  my  Lord,  I  would  only  say  that  the  poor 
young  man  whom  you  deigned  to  consider  in  your 
service  is  dying  of  hunger." 

"  Pshaw  !  at  such  a  moment  to  speak  of  things  like 
this  !  Your  little  Corneille  will  not  write  anything 
good  ;  we  have  only  seen  the  '  Cid  '  and  '  Les  Horaces' 
as  yet.  Let  him  work,  let  him  work ;  it  is  known  that 
he  is  in  my  service,  and  that  is  disagreeable.  However, 
since  you  interest  yourself  in  the  matter,  I  give  him  a 
pension  of  five  hundred  crowns  on  my  privy  purse." 

And  the  chancellor  of  the  exchequer  retired,  charmed 
with  the  liberality  of  the  minister,  and  went  home  to 
receive  with  great  affability  the  dedication  of  "  Cinna," 
wherein  the  great  Corneille  compares  his  soul  to  that  of 
Augustus,  and  thanks  him  for  having  given  alms  a 
quelques  Muses. 

The  cardinal,  vexed  by  this  importunity,  rose,  ob- 
serving that  the  day  was  advancing,  and  that  it  was 
time  to  set  out  to  visit  the  king. 

At  this  moment,  and  as  the  greatest  noblemen  present 
were  offering  their  arms  to  aid  him  in  walking,  a  man 
in  the  robe  of  a  referendary  advanced  towards  him, 
saluting  him  with  a  complacent  and  confident  smile 
which  astonished  all  the  people  there,  accustomed  to 
the  great  world,  seeming  as  it  did  to  say,  "  "We  have 
secret  affairs  together ;  you  shall  see  how  agreeable  he 
makes  himself  to  me.  I  am  at  home  in  his  cabinet." 
His  heavy  and  awkward  manner,  however,  betrayed  a 
very  inferior  being;  it  was  Laubardemont. 


126  CINQ-MARS. 

Richelieu  knit  his  brows  when  he  saw  him  before  him, 
and  cast  a  glance  at  Joseph  ;  then  turning  towards  those 
who  surrounded  him,  he  said  with  bitter  scorn,  — 

"  Is  there  some  criminal  about  us  to  be  apprehended  ? 

Then  turning  his  back  upon  the  utterly  discomfited 
Laubardemont,  the  cardinal  left  him  redder  than  his 
robe,  and  preceded  by  the  crowd  of  personages  who  were 
to  escort  him  in  carriages  or  on  horseback,  he  descended 
the  great  staircase  of  the  palace. 

All  the  people  and  authorities  of  Narbonne  viewed 
this  royal  departure  with  stupefaction. 

The  cardinal  entered  alone  a  spacious  litter  of  a 
square  form,  in  which  he  was  to  travel  to  Perpignan, 
his  infirmities  not  permitting  him  to  go  in  a  coach,  or  to 
perform  the  journey  on  horseback.  This  kind  of  moving 
chamber  contained  a  bed,  a  table,  and  a  small  chair  for 
the  page  who  wrote  or  read  for  him.  This  machine, 
covered  with  purple  damask,  was  carried  by  eighteen 
men,  who  were  relieved  at  intervals  of  a  league ;  they 
were  selected  from  among  his  guards,  and  always  per- 
formed this  service  of  honor  with  uncovered  heads, 
however  hot  or  wet  the  weather  might  be.  The  Due 
d'Angouleme,  the  Marshals  de  Schomberg  and  d'Estrees, 
Fabert  and  other  dignitaries,  were  on  horseback  beside 
the  litter ;  after  them,  among  the  most  forward  were 
observed  Cardinal  de  la  Vallette  and  Mazarin,  with  Cha- 
vigny,  and  the  Mare'chal  de  Vitry,  anxious  to  avoid  the 
Bastille,  with  which  it  was  said  he  was  threatened. 

Two  coaches  followed  for  the  cardinal's  secretaries, 
physicians,  and  confessor ;  then  eight  others,  each  with 
four  horses,  for  his  gentlemen,  and  twenty-four  mules  for 


THE   CABINET. 


127 


his  luggage.  Two  hundred  musketeers  on  foot  marched 
close  after  him,  and  his  company  of  men-at-arms  of  the 
guard  and  his  light-horse,  all  of  them  gentlemen,  rode 
before  and  behind  him  on  splendid  horses. 

Such  was  the  equipage  in  which  the  prime  minister 
proceeded  to  Perpignan;  the  size  of  the  litter  often  made 
it  necessary  to  enlarge  the  roads,  and  knock  down  the 
walls  of  some  of  the  towns  and  villages  on  the  way,  into 
which  it  could  not  otherwise  enter,  "  so  that,"  say  the 
authors  and  manuscripts  of  the  time,  full  of  a  sincere 
admiration  for  all  this  luxury,  —  "  so  that  he  seemed  a 
conqueror  entering  by  the  breach."  We  have  sought  in 
vain  with  great  care,  in  these  manuscripts,  for  any  ac- 
count of  proprietors  or  inhabitants  of  these  houses  so 
making  room  for  his  passage  who  participated  in  this 
admiration;  but  we  have  been  unable  to  find  any 
mention  of  such. 


CHAPTER  VIE. 

THE  INTERVIEW. 
"  Mon  genie  etonne  tremble  devant  le  sien." 

THE  pompous  cortege  of  the  cardinal  stopped  at  the 
entrance  to  the  camp.  All  the  troops  under  arms  were 
drawn  up  in  the  finest  order ;  and  it  was  amid  the  sound 
of  cannon  and  the  music  of  each  regiment  that  the  litter 
traversed  a  long  line  of  cavalry  and  infantry,  formed 
from  the  outermost  tent  to  that  of  the  minister,  pitched 
at  some  distance  from  the  royal  quarters,  and  which 
its  purple  covering  distinguished  at  a  distance.  Each 
general  of  division  obtained  a  nod  or  a  word  from  the 
cardinal,  who  at  length  reaching  his  tent  and  dismissing 
his  train  shut  himself  in,  waiting  for  the  time  to  present 
himself  to  the  king.  But,  before  him,  every  person  of 
his  escort  had  repaired  thither  individually,  and  without 
entering  the  royal  abode,  collected  in  the  long  galleries 
covered  with  striped  stuff,  and  arranged  as  became  ave- 
nues leading  to  the  prince.  The  courtiers,  walking  in 


THE  INTERVIEW.  129 

groups,  saluted  one  another  and  shook  hands,  regarding 
each  other  haughtily,  according  to  their  connections  or 
the  lords  to  whom  they  belonged.  Others  whispered  to- 
gether and  gave  signs  of  astonishment,  pleasure,  or  anger, 
which  showed  that  something  extraordinary  had  taken 
place.  Among  a  thousand  others,  one  singular  dialogue 
occurred  in  a  corner  of  the  principal  gallery. 

"  May  I  ask,  M.  TAbbe",  why  you  look  at  me  so 
fixedly?" 

"Parbleu!  M.  de  Launay,  'tis  because  I'm  curious  to 
see  what  you  will  do.  All  the  world  abandons  your 
cardinal-due  since  your  journey  into  Touraine ;  if  you 
do  not  believe  it,  go  and  ask  the  people  of  Monsieur  or 
of  the  queen.  You  are  behindhand  ten  minutes  by  the 
watch  with  the  Cardinal  de  la  Vallette,  who  has  just 
shaken  hands  with  Rochefort  and  the  gentlemen  of  the 
late  Comte  de  Soissons,  whom  I  shall  regret  as  long  as 
I  live."  . 

"Well,  M.  de  Gondi,  I  understand  you;  'tis  a  chal- 
lenge with  which  you  honor  me  ? " 

"  Yes,  M.  le  Comte,"  answered  the  young  abbe,  salut- 
ing him  with  all  the  gravity  of  the  time ;  "  I  sought  an 
occasion  to  challenge  you  in  the  name  of  M.  d'Attichi, 
my  friend,  with  whom  you  had  something  to  do  at 
Paris." 

"  M.  I'Abbe",  I  am  at  your  command.  I  will  seek  my 
seconds ;  do  you  the  same." 

"  On  horseback,  with  sword  and  pistol,  I  suppose  ? " 
added  Gondi,  with  the  air  of  a  man  arranging  a  party 
of  pleasure,  brushing  the  sleeve  of  his  cassock  with  his 
finger. 

VOL.  r.  —  9 


130  CINQ-MARS. 

"If  you  please,"  replied  the  other.  And  they  sepa- 
rated for  a  time,  saluting  one  another  with  the  greatest 
politeness,  and  with  profound  bows. 

A  brilliant  crowd  of  gentlemen  circulated  around  them 
in  the  gallery.  They  mixed  in  it  to  procure  friends  for 
the  occasion.  All  the  elegance  of  the  costumes  of  the 
day  were  displayed  by  the  court  that  morning,  —  small 
cloaks  of  every  color,  in  velvet  or  in  satin,  embroidered 
with  gold  or  silver ;  crosses  of  Saint  Michael  and  of  the 
Holy  Ghost ;  the  ruffs,  the  infinite  hat-plumes,  the  gold 
shoulder-knots,  the  chains  by  which  the  long  swords 
hung:  all  glittered  and  sparkled,  yet  not  so  brilliantly 
as  did  the  fiery  glances  of  those  warlike  youths,  or  their 
sprightly  conversation,  or  their  intellectual  laughter. 
Amid  the  assembly,  grave  personages  and  great  lords 
passed  on,  followed  by  their  numerous  gentlemen. 

The  little  Abbe"  de  Gondi,  who  was  very  short-sighted, 
made  his  way  through  the  crowd,  knitting  his  brows 
and  half  shutting  his  eyes,  that  he  might  see  the  better, 
and  twisting  his  mustache,  for  ecclesiastics  wore  them 
in  those  days.  He  looked  closely  at  every  one  in  order 
to  recognize  his  friends,  and  at  last  stopped  before  a 
young  man,  very  tall  and  dressed  in  black  from  head  to 
foot ;  his  sword,  even,  was  of  quite  dark  bronzed  steel. 
He  was  talking  with  a  captain  of  the  guards,  when  the 
Abb£  de  Gondi  took  him  aside. 

"  M.  de  Thou,"  said  he,  "  I  need  you  as  my  second  in 
an  hour,  on  horseback,  with  sword  and  pistol,  if  you  will 
do  me  that  honor." 

"  Sir,  you  know  I  am  entirely  at  your  service  on  all 
occasions.  Where  shall  we  meet?" 


THE  INTERVIEW.  131 

"  In  front  of  the  Spanish  bastion,  if  you  please." 

"Pardon  me  for  returning  to  a  conversation  that 
greatly  interests  me.  I  will  be  punctual  to  the 
rendezvous." 

And  De  Thou  quitted  him  to  rejoin  the  captain.  He 
had  said  all  this  in  the  gentlest  of  voices  with  unalter- 
able coolness,  and  even  with  somewhat  of  an  abstracted 
manner. 

The  little  abb6  squeezed  his  hand  with  warm  satisfac- 
tion, and  continued  his  search. 

He  did  not  so  easily  effect  an  agreement  with  the 
young  lords  to  whom  he  addressed  himself;  for  they 
knew  him  better  than  did  De  Thou,  and  when  they  saw 
him  coming  at  a  distance,  they  tried  to  avoid  him,  or 
laughed  at  him  to  his  face,  and  would  not  engage  to 
serve  him. 

"  Ah,  Abbe* !  there  you  are  hunting  again  ;  I  '11  engage 
it's  a  second  you  want,"  said  the  Due  de  Beaufort. 

"  And  I  wager,''  added  M.  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  "  that 
it 's  against  one  of  the  cardinal-due's  people." 

"  You  are  both  right,  gentlemen ;  but  since  when 
laugh  you  at  affairs  of  honor?" 

"  The  saints  forbid  I  should,"  said  M.  de  Beaufort. 
"  Men  of  the  sword  like  us  ever  reverence  tierce,  quarte, 
and  octave ;  but  as  for  the  folds  of  the  cassock,  I  know 
nothing  of  them." 

"  Pardieu  !  sir,  you  know  well  enough  that  it  does  not 
embarrass  my  wrist,  as  I  will  prove  to  him  who  choose ; 
as  to  the  gown  itself,  I  should  like  to  throw  it  into  the 
gutter." 

"Is   it  then  to  tear  it  you  fight  so  often?"    asked 


132  CINQ-MARS. 

La  Rochefoucauld.     "But    remember,   my   dear    abbe*, 
that  you   are  inside  it." 

Gondi  turned  round  to  look  at  the  clock,  anxious  to 
lose  no  more  time  in  such  sorry  jests ;  but  he  had  no 
better  success  elsewhere.  Having  stopped  two  gentlemen 
in  the  service  of  the  young  queen,  whom  he  thought 
ill-affected  towards  the  cardinal,  and  consequently  glad 
to  measure  swords  with  his  creatures,  one  of  them  said 
to  him  very  gravely,  — 

"  M.  de  Gondi,  you  know  what  has  just  happened  ; 
the  king  has  said  aloud, '  Whether  our  imperious  cardi- 
nal please  or  no,  the  widow  of  Henri  le  Grand  shall  no 
longer  remain  in  exile.'  Imperious !  the  king  never 
before  said  anything  so  strong  as  that,  M.  PAbbe',  mark 
that.  Imperious  !  it  is  a  clear  disgrace.  Assuredly  no 
one  will  venture  to  speak  to  him ;  he  will  quit  the  court 
this  very  day." 

"  I  have  heard  this,  sir,  but  I  have  an  affair  —  " 
"  It  is  lucky  for  you  he  stopped  short  in  the  middle  of 
your  career." 

"  An  affair  of  honor  —  " 

"  Whereas  Mazarin  is  quite  a  friend  of  yours." 
"  But  will  you,  or  will  you  not,  listen  to  me  ?  " 
"  Ay,  a  friend  indeed !  your  adventures  are  always  run- 
ning in  his  head.     Your  fine  duel  with  M.  de  Coutenan 
about  the  pretty  little  pin-seller,  —  he  even  spoke  of  it  to' 
the  king.     Adieu,  my  dear   abbe*,  we   are  in   a   great 
hurry ;  adieu,  adieu ! "     And   taking  his   friend's  arm, 
the  young  banterer,  without  listening  to  another  word, 
rapidly  walked  down  the  gallery  and  disappeared  in  the 
crowd. 


THE  INTERVIEW.  133 

The  poor  abb6  was  standing  very  mortified  at  only 
being -able  to  get  one  second,  and  watching  grievously 
the  departure  of  the  hour  and  of  the  crowd,  when  he 
perceived  a  young  gentleman  whom  he  did  not  know, 
seated  at  a  table,  leaning  on  his  elbow  with  a  melan- 
choly air  ;  he  wore  mourning  which  indicated  no  con- 
nection with  any  great  house  or  party,  and  seeming  to 
await,  without  any  impatience,  the  time  for  attending  the 
king,  looked  with  a  heedless  air  at  those  who  surrounded 
him,  seeming  not  to  notice  or  to  know  any  of  them. 

Gondi  accosted  him  without  hesitation  :  — 

"Faith,  sir,  I  have  not  the  honor  of  your  acquain- 
tance, but  a  fencing  party  can  never  be  unpleasant  to  a 
man  of  honor ;  and  if  you  will  be  my  second,  in  a  quar- 
ter of  an  hour  we  shall  be  on  the  ground.  I  am  Paul  de 
Gondi ;  and  I  have  challenged  M.  de  Launay,  one  of  the 
cardinal's  faction,  but  in  other  respects  a  very  gallant 
fellow." 

The  unknown,  seeming  in  no  way  surprised  at  this 
address,  answered  without  altering  his  position,  "  And 
who  are  his  seconds  ? " 

"Faith,  I  don't  know;  but  what  matters  it  who  sec- 
onds him  ?  We  stand  no  worse  with  our  friends  for 
having  exchanged  a  thrust  with  them." 

The  stranger  smiled  carelessly,  paused  for  an  instant 
to  pass  his  hand  through  his  long  chestnut  hair,  and 
then  said,  drowsily  looking  at  a  large  round  watch  which 
hung  at  his  girdle, — 

"  Well,  sir,  as  I  have  nothing  better  to  do,  and  as  I 
have  no  friends  here,  I  am  with  you  ;  't  will  pass  the 
time  as  well  as  anything  else." 


134  CINQ-MARS. 

And  taking  his  large  black  plumed  hat  off  the  table, 
he  followed  the  warlike  abbe",  who  hurried  on  before 
him,  ever  and  anon  running  back  to  hasten  him  on,  like 
a  child  running  before  his  father,  or  a  young  dog  that 
goes  backwards  and  forwards  twenty  times  before  it  gets 
to  the  end  of  a  lane. 

Meanwhile,  two  ushers,  clothed  in  the  royal  livery, 
opened  the  great  curtains  which  separated  the  gallery 
from  the  king's  tent,  and  silence  became  universal.  The 
courtiers  began  to  enter  slowly,  and  in  succession,  the 
temporary  dwelling  of  the  prince.  He  received  them  all 
gracefully,  and  himself  first  met  the  view  of  each  person 
introduced. 

Before  a  very  small  table  surrounded  with  gilt  arm- 
chairs stood  Louis  XIIL,  encircled  by  the  great  officers 
of  the  crown.  His  dress  was  very  elegant :  a  kind  of 
fawn-colored  vest,  with  open  sleeves,  ornamented  with 
shoulder-knots  and  blue  ribbons,  covered  him  down  to 
the  waist.  Wide  breeches  reached  only  to  above  the 
knee,  and  the  yellow  and  red  striped  stuff  of  which  they 
were  composed  was  ornamented  below  with  blue  ribbons. 
His  boots  a  VScuyere,  reaching  scarcely  more  than  three 
inches  above  his  ankle,  were  turned  down  with  such  a 
profusion  of  lace  that  they  seemed  to  hold  it  as  a  vase 
holds  flowers.  A  small  mantle  of  blue  velvet,  on  which 
was  embroidered  the  cross  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  covered 
the  king's  left  arm,  which  rested  on  the  hilt  of  his 
sword. 

His  head  was  uncovered,  and  his  pale  and  noble  face 
was  perfectly  visible,  lighted  up  by  the  sun,  which  pene- 
trated through  the  top  of  the  tent.  The  small  pointed 


THE  INTERVIEW.  135 

beard  then  worn  aggravated  the  thinness  of  his  face, 
while  it  added  to  its  melancholy  expression ;  by  his  lofty 
brow,  his  classical  profile,  his  aquiline  nose,  was  at  once 
recognized  a  prince  of  the  great  race  of  Bourbon.  He 
had  all  the  characteristic  traits  of  his  ancestors  except 
their  potent  glance ;  his  eyes  seemed  red  with  tears,  and 
veiled  with  a  perpetual  sleep ;  and  the  weakness  of  his 
sight  gave  him  a  somewhat  vacant  look. 

On  this  occasion,  he  ostentatiously  called  around  him 
and  was  attentive  to  the  greatest  enemies  of  the  cardinal, 
whom  he  expected  every  moment ;  and  balancing  himself 
with  one  foot  over  the  other,  an  hereditary  habit  of  his 
family,  he  spoke  quickly,  but  stopping  from  time  to  time 
to  make  a  gracious  inclination  of  the  head,  or  a  gesture 
of  the  hand,  to  those  who  passed  before  him  with  low 
bows. 

The  court  had  been  thus  paying  its  respects  to  the 
king  for  two  hours  ere  the  cardinal  appeared ;  the  whole 
court  was  collected  in  close  ranks  behind  the  prince, 
and  in  the  long  galleries  which  extended  from  his  tent. 
Already  a  longer  interval  began  to  elapse  between  the 
names  of  the  courtiers  who  were  announced. 

"  Shall  we  not  see  our  cousin  the  cardinal  ? "  said 
the  king,  turning  round,  and  looking  at  Montresor, 
one  of  Monsieur's  gentlemen,  as  if  to  encourage  him 
to  answer. 

"  He  is  said  to  be  very  ill  just  now,  Sire,"  was  the 
answer. 

"  And  yet  I  do  not  see  how  any  but  your  Majesty  can 
cure  him,"  said  the  Due  de  Beaufort. 

"  We  cure  nothing  but  the  evil,"  replied  Louis  ;  "  and 


136  CINQ-MARS. 

the  complaints  of  the  cardinal  are  always  so  mysterious 
that  we  own  we  cannot  at  all  understand  them." 

The  prince  thus  essayed  to  brave  his  minister  before- 
hand, gaining  strength  in  jests,  the  better  to  break  his 
yoke,  so  insupportable  but  so  difficult  to  remove.  He 
almost  thought  he  had  succeeded  in  this,  and,  supported 
by  the  joyous  air  of  all  who  surrounded  him,  he  already 
inwardly  congratulated  himself  on  having  been  able  to 
assume  the  supreme  empire,  and  for  the  moment  enjoyed 
all  the  power  he  thought  himself  possessed  of.  An  in- 
voluntary agitation  in  the  depth  of  his  heart  had  warned 
him  indeed  that,  the  hour  passed,  all  the  weight  of  the 
State  would  fall  upon  himself  alone ;  but  he  talked  in 
order  to  divert  the  troublesome  thought,  and  concealing 
from  himself  the  firm  assurance  he  had  of  his  own  in- 
ability to  reign,  he  set  his  imagination  to  work  upon  the 
result  of  his  enterprises,  thus  forcing  himself  to  forget 
the  tedious  roads  which  led  to  them.  Rapid  sentences 
succeeded  one  another  on  his  lips. 

"  We  shall  soon  take  Perpignan,"  he  said  to  Fabert, 
who  stood  at  some  distance. 

"  Well,  Cardinal,  Lorraine  is  ours,"  he  added  to  La 
Vallette.  Then  touching  Mazarin's  arm, — 

"  It  is  not  so  difficult  to  conduct  a  State  as  is  sup- 
posed, eh?" 

The  Italian,  who  was  not  so  sure  as  most  of  the  cour- 
tiers of  the  cardinal's  disgrace,  answered  without  com- 
promising himself, — 

"  Ah,  Sire,  the  late  successes  of  your  Majesty  at  home 
and  abroad  manifest  your  skill  in  choosing  your  instru- 
ments and  in  directing  them,  and  —  " 


THE  INTERVIEW.  137 

But  the  Due  de  Beaufort,  interrupting  him  with  that 
self-sufficiency,  that  loud  voice  and  air,  which  subse- 
quently procured  him  the  surname  of  Important,  cried 
out  vehemently,  — 

"  Pardieu !  Sire,  it  needs  only  to  will.  A  nation  is 
driven  like  a  horse,  with  spur  and  bridle ;  and  as  we 
are  all  good  horsemen,  there  are  plenty  to  choose 
among." 

This  fine  sally  of  the  coxcomb  due  had  not  time  to 
take  effect,  for  two  ushers  cried  at  the  same  moment, 
"  His  Eminence  ! " 

The  king  reddened  involuntarily,  as  if  surprised  en 
flagrant  delit.  But  immediately  resuming  confidence, 
he  put  on  an  air  of  resolute  haughtiness,  which  was  not 
lost  upon  the  minister. 

The  latter,  attired  in  all  the  pomp  of  a  cardinal,  lean- 
ing upon  two  young  pages,  and  followed  by  his  captain 
of  the  guards  and  more  than  five  hundred  gentlemen  at- 
tached to  his  house,  advanced  towards  the  king  slowly 
and  stopping  at  each  step,  as  if  forcibly  arrested  by  his 
sufferings,  but  in  reality  to  observe  the  faces  before 
him.  A  glance  sufficed. 

His  suite  remained  at  the  entrance  of  the  royal  tent ; 
of  all  those  within  it,  not  one  was  bold  enough  to  salute 
him,  or  to  look  towards  him.  Even  La  Vallette  feigned 
to  be  deeply  occupied  in  a  conversation  with  Montre'sor ; 
and  the  king,  who  desired  to  give  him  an  unfavorable  re- 
ception, greeted  him  lightly  and  continued  a  conversation 
aside  in  a  low  voice  with  the  Due  de  Beaufort. 

The  cardinal  was  therefore  forced,  after  the  first 
salute,  to  stop  and  pass  to  the  side  of  the  crowd  of 


138  CINQ-MARS. 

courtiers,  as  though  he  wished  to  mix  with  them,  but 
in  reality  to  test  them  more  closely ;  they  all  recoiled  as 
at  the  sight  of  a  leper.  Fabert  alone  advanced  towards 
him  with  the  frank  and  blunt  air  habitual  with  him, 
and  making  use  of  the  terms  belonging  to  his  profession, 
said,  — 

"  Well,  my  Lord,  you  make  a  breach  in  the  midst  of 
them  like  a  cannon-ball ;  I  ask  pardon  in  their  name." 

"And  you  stand  firm  before  me  as  before  the  enemy," 
said  the  cardinal ;  "  you  will  have  no  cause  to  regret  it 
in  the  end,  my  dear  Fabert." 

Mazarin  also  approached  the  cardinal,  but  with  cau- 
tion, and  giving  to  his  flexible  features  an  expression  of 
profound  sadness,  made  him  five  or  six  very  low  bows, 
turning  his  back  to  the  group  gathered  round  the  king, 
so  that  in  the  latter  quarter  they  might  be  taken  for 
those  cold  and  hasty  salutations  which  are  made  to  a 
person  one  desires  to  be  rid  of,  and,  on  the  part  of  the 
due,  for  tokens  of  respect,  blended  with  a  discreet  and 
silent  sorrow. 

The  minister,  ever  calm,  smiled  in  disdain ;  and  as- 
suming that  firm  look  and  that  air  of  grandeur  which 
he  wore  so  perfectly  in  the  hour  of  danger,  he  again 
leaned  upon  his  pages,  and  without  waiting  for  a  word 
or  glance  from  his  sovereign,  he  suddenly  resolved  upon 
his  line  of  conduct,  and  walked  directly  towards  him, 
traversing  the  whole  length  of  the  tent.  No  one  had 
lost  sight  of  him,  although  affecting  not  to  observe  him. 
Every  one  now  became  silent,  even  those  who  were 
talking  to  the  king;  all  the  courtiers  bent  forward  to 
see  and  to  hear. 


THE  INTERVIEW.  139 

Louis  XIII.  turned  round  in  astonishment,  and  all 
presence  of  mind  totally  failing  him,  remained  motion- 
less, and  waited  with  an  icy  glance,  —  his  sole  force,  but 
a  vis  inertia}  very  effectual  in  a  prince. 

The  cardinal,  on  coming  close  to  the  prince,  did  not 
bow;  and  without  changing  his  position,  his  eyes 
lowered  and  his  hands  placed  on  the  shoulders  of  the 
two  boys  half  bending,  he  said, — 

"  Sire,  I  come  to  implore  your  Majesty  at  length  to 
grant  me  the  retirement  for  which  I  have  long  sighed. 
My  health  is  failing;  I  feel  that  my  life  will  soon  be 
ended.  Eternity  approaches  me,  and  before  rendering  an 
account  to  the  eternal  King,  I  would  render  one  to  my 
temporal  sovereign.  It  is  eighteen  years,  Sire,  since  you 
placed  in  my  hands  a  weak  and  divided  kingdom  ;  I 
return  it  to  you  united  and  powerful.  Your  enemies 
are  overthrown  and  humiliated.  My  work  is  accom- 
plished. I  ask  your  Majesty's  permission  to  retire  to 
Citeaux,  of  which  1  am  abbot,  and  where  I  may  end  my 
days  in  prayer  and  meditation." 

The  king,  irritated  with  some  haughty  expressions  in 
this  address,  showed  none  of  the  signs  of  weakness 
which  the  cardinal  'had  expected,  and  which  he  had 
always  seen  in  him  when  he  had  threatened  to  resign 
the  management  of  affairs.  On  the  contrary,  feeling 
that  he  had  the  eyes  of  the  whole  court  upon  him,  Louis 
looked  upon  him  with  the  air  of  a  king,  and  coldly 
replied,  — 

"  We  thank  you,  then,  for  your  services,  M.  le 
Cardinal,  and  wish  you  the  repose  you  desire." 

Richelieu  was  deeply  angered,  but  no  indication  of  his 


140  CINQ-MARS. 

rage  appeared  upon  his  countenance.  "  Such  was  the 
coldness  with  which  you  left  Montmorency  to  die," 
he  said  to  himself ;  "  but  you  shall  not  escape  me 
thus."  He  then  continued  aloud,  bowing  at  the  same 
time,  — 

"  The  only  recompense  I  ask  for  my  services  is  that 
your  Majesty  will  deign  to  accept  from  me,  as  a  gift,  the 
Palais-Cardinal  \  have  lately  erected  at  my  own  cost  in 
Paris." 

The  king,  astonished,  bowed  in  token  of  assent.  A 
murmur  of  surprise  for  a  moment  agitated  the  attentive 
court. 

"  I  also  petition  your  Majesty  to  grant  me  the  revo- 
cation of  an  act  of  rigor,  which  I  solicited  (I  publicly 
confess  it),  and  which  I  perhaps  regarded  as  too  bene- 
ficial to  the  repose  of  the  State.  Yes,  when  I  was  of 
this  world,  I  was  too  forgetful  of  my  old  sentiments  of 
personal  respect  and  attachment,  in  my  eagerness  for 
the  public  welfare  ;  now  that  I  already  enjoy  the  enlight- 
enment of  solitude,  I  see  that  I  have  been  wrong,  and  I 
repent." 

The  attention  of  the  spectators  was  redoubled,  and 
the  uneasiness  of  the  king  became  visible. 

"  Yes,  there  is  one  person,  Sire,  whom  I  have  always 
loved,  despite  her  wrongs  towards  you,  and  the  banish- 
ment which  the  affairs  of  the  kingdom  forced  me  to  pro- 
cure for  her ;  a  person  to  whom  I  have  owed  much,  and 
who  should  be  very  dear  to  you,  notwithstanding  her 
armed  attempts  against  you  ;  a  person,  in  a  word,  whom 
I  implore  you  to  recall  from  exile,  —  the  queen  Marie  de 
Me*dicis,  your  mother." 


THE  INTERVIEW.  141 

The  king  sent  forth  an  involuntary  exclamation,  so 
far  was  he  from  expecting  to  hear  that  name.  A 
repressed  agitation  suddenly  appeared  upon  every  face. 
All  awaited  in  silence  the  king's  reply.  Louis  XIII. 
looked  for  a  long  time  at  his  old  minister  without  speak- 
ing, and  this  look  decided  the  fate  of  France ;  in  that 
instant,  he  called  to  mind  all  the  indefatigable  services 
of  Richelieu,  his  unbounded  devotion,  his  wonderful 
capacity,  and  was  surprised  at  himself  for  having  wished 
to  part  with  him.  He  felt  deeply  affected  at  this  request, 
which  hunted  out,  as  it  were,  the  exact  cause  of  his 
anger  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  rooted  it  up,  and  took 
from  his  hands  the  only  weapon  he  had  against  his  old 
servant;  filial  love  brought  the  words  of  pardon  to  his 
lips  and  tears  into  his  eyes.  Delighted  to  grant  what  he 
desired  most  of  all  things  in  the  world,  he  extended  his 
hand  to  the  due  with  all  the  nobleness  and  kindliness  of 
a  Bourbon.  The  cardinal  bowed,  and  respectfully  kissed 
it ;  and  his  heart,  which  should  have  burst  with  remorse, 
only  swelled  in  the  joy  of  a  haughty  triumph. 

The  prince,  much  moved,  abandoning  his  hand  to 
him,  turned  gracefully  towards  his  court  and  said  with 
a  tremulous  voice, — 

"  We  often  deceive  ourselves,  gentlemen,  and  espe- 
cially in  our  knowledge  of  so  great  a  politician  as  this ; 
I  hope  he  will  never  leave  us,  since  his  heart  is  as  good 
as  his  head." 

Cardinal  de  la  Vallette  on  the  instant  seized  the  arm 
of  the  king's  mantle,  and  kissed  it  with  all  the  ardor 
of  a  lover,  and  the  young  Mazarin  did  much  the  same 
with  Richelieu  himself,  assuming  with  admirable  Italian 


142  CINQ-MARS. 

suppleness  an  expression  radiant  with  joyful  emotion. 
Two  streams  of  flatterers  hastened,  one  towards  the 
king,  the  other  towards  the  minister ;  the  former  group, 
not  less  adroit  than  the  second,  although  less  direct, 
addressed  to  the  prince  thanks  which  could  be  heard  by 
the  minister,  and  burned  at  the  feet  of  the  one  incense 
which  was  destined  for  the  other.  As  for  Kichelieu, 
bestowing  a  bow  on  the  right  and  a  smile  on  the  left, 
he  stepped  forward,  and  stood  on  the  right  hand  of  the 
king,  as  his  natural  place.  A  stranger  entering  would 
rather  have  thought,  indeed,  that  it  was  the  king  who 
was  on  the  cardinal's  left  hand.  The  Mare'chal  d'Es- 
tre*es,  all  the  ambassadors,  the  Due  d'Angouleme,  the 
Due  d'Halluin  (Schomberg),  the  Marechal  de  Ch  3,  till  on, 
and  all  the  great  officers  of  the  crown,  surrounded  him, 
each  waiting  impatiently  for  the  compliments  of  the 
others  to  be  finished,  in  order  to  pay  his  own,  fearing 
lest  some  one  else  should  anticipate  him  with  the  flatter- 
ing epigram  he  had  just  improvised,  or  the  turn  of 
adulation  he  was  inventing.  As  for  Fabert,  he  had 
retired  to  a  corner  of  the  tent,  and  seemed  to  have  paid 
no  particular  attention  to  the  scene.  He  was  chatting 
with  Montre'sor  and  the  gentlemen  of  Monsieur,  all 
sworn  enemies  of  the  cardinal,  because,  out  of  the  crowd 
he  avoided,  he  had  found  none  but  these  to  speak  to. 
This  conduct  would  have  seemed  extremely  unskilful  in 
one  less  known  ;  but  he  was  a  man  who,  though  living 
in  the  midst  of  the  court,  was  ever  ignorant  of  its  in- 
trigues. It  was  said  of  him  that  he  returned  from  a 
battle  he  had  gained,  like  the  king's  hunting  horse, 
leaving  the  dogs  to  caress  their  master  and  divide  the 


THE  INTERVIEW.  143 

quarry,  without  seeking  even  to  remember  the  part  he 
had  had  in  the  triumph. 

The  storm,  then,  seemed  entirely  appeased,  and  to 
the  violent  agitations  of  the  morning  there  succeeded  a 
gentle  calm ;  a  respectful  murmur,  varied  with  pleasant 
laughter  and  protestations  of  attachment,  was  all  that 
was  heard  in  the  tent.  The  voice  of  the  cardinal  arose 
from  time  to  time  :  "  The  dear  queen !  We  shall,  then, 
soon  again  see  her !  I  had  never  dared  to  hope  such 
happiness  while  I  lived ! "  The  king  listened  to  him 
with  full  confidence,  and  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  his 
satisfaction.  "It  was  assuredly  an  idea  sent  to  him 
from  on  high,"  he  said ;  "  this  good  cardinal,  against 
whom  they  had  so  incensed  me,  was  thinking  only  of 
the  union  of  my  family.  Since  the  birth  of  the  dauphin 
I  have  not  tasted  greater  joy  than  at  this  moment. 
The  protection  of  the  holy  Virgin  is  manifested  over 
the  kingdom." 

At  this  moment,  a  captain  of  the  guards  came  up  and 
whispered  in  the  king's  ear. 

"  A  courier  from  Cologne  ?  "  said  the  king ;  "  let  him 
wait  in  my  cabinet." 

Then,  unable  to  restrain  his  impatience,  "  I  come !  I 
come  ! "  he  said,  and  entered  alone  a  small  square  tent 
attached  to  the  great  one.  In  it  was  observed  a  young 
courier  holding  a  black  portfolio,  and  the  curtains  closed 
upon  the  king. 

The  cardinal,  left  sole  master  of  the  court,  concen- 
trated all  its  homage ;  but  it  was  observed  that  he  no 
longer  received  it  with  his  former  presence  o£  mind.  He 
frequently  inquired  what  time  it  was,  and  exhibited  an 


CINQ-MARS. 

anxiety  clearly  unfeigned ;  his  hard,  unquiet  glances 
were  cast  towards  the  closet.  It  suddenly  opened ;  the 
king  appeared  alone,  and  stopped  on  the  threshold.  He 
was  paler  than  usual,  and  trembled  in  every  limb ;  he 
held  in  his  hand  a  large  letter  with  five  black  seals. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  with  a  loud  but  broken  voice, 
"the  queen  has  just  died  at  Cologne;  and  I  perhaps  am 
not  the  first  who  have  heard  of  it,"  he  added,  casting  a 
severe  look  towards  the  impassible  cardinal,  "  but  God 
knows  all.  To  horse  in  an  hour,  and  attack  the  lines ! 
Marshals,  follow  me."  And  he  turned  his  back  ab- 
ruptly, and  re-entered  his  cabinet  with  them. 

The  court  retired  after  the  minister,  who,  without 
giving  any  sign  of  sorrow  or  annoyance,  went  forth  as 
gravely  as  he  had  entered,  but  now  a  victor. 


•   *• 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   SIEGE. 

II  papa,  alzato  le  mane  c  fattomi  un  patente  crocione  sopra  la  mia 
figura,  mi  disse,  che  mi  benediva  e  che  mi  perdonava  tutti  gli  omicidii 
che  io  avevo  mai  fatti,  et  tutti  quelli  che  mai  io  farei  in  servizio  della 
Chiesa  apostolica.  — BENVENUTO  CELLINI. 

THERE  are  moments  in  our  life  when  we  long  for  vigor- 
ous excitement  to  drown  our  petty  griefs,  —  times  when 
the  soul,  like  the  lion  in  the  fable,  wearied  with  the  con- 
tinual attacks  of  the  gnat,  earnestly  desires  a  mightier 
enemy  and  real  dangers.  Cinq-Mars  experienced  this 
condition  of  mind,  which  always  results  from  a  morbid 
sensibility  in  the  organic  constitution  and  a  perpetual 
agitation  of  the  heart.  Weary  of  constantly  turning  over 
in  his  thoughts  a  combination  of  the  events  which  he 
desired,  and  of  those  which  he  dreaded ;  of  calculating 
his  chances  to  the  best  of  his  power ;  of  summoning  to 
his  assistance  all  that  his  education  had  taught  him  con- 
cerning the  lives  of  illustrious  men,  in  order  to  parallel 
it  with  his  present  situation ;  oppressed  by  his  regrets, 

VOL.  I.  —  10 


146  CINQ-MARS, 

his  dreams,  predictions,  fancies,  and  all  that  imaginary 
world  in  which  he  had  existed  during  his  solitary  jour- 
ney,—  he  breathed  freely  upon  finding  himself  thrown 
into  a  real  world  almost  as  full  of  agitation;  and  the 
sensation  of  two  actual  dangers  restored  circulation  to 
his  blood,  and  youth  to  all  his  being. 

Since  the  nocturnal  scene  at  the  inn  near  Loudun,  he 
had  not  been  able  to  resume  sufficient  empire  over  his 
mind  to  occupy  himself  with  anything  save  his  beloved 
though  mournful  reflections ;  and  consumption  was  al- 
ready threatening  his  frame,  when  happily  he  arrived  at 
the  camp  of  Perpignan,  and  happily  also  had  the  oppor- 
tunity of  accepting  the  proposition  of  the  Abbe"  de  Gondi, 
—  for  the  reader  has  no  doubt  recognized  Cinq-Mars 
in  the  person  of  that  young  stranger  in  mourning,  so 
indifferent  and  so  melancholy,  whom  the  duellist  in  the 
cassock  took  for  his  second. 

He  had  ordered  his  tent  to  be  pitched  as  a  volunteer 
in  the  street  of  the  camp  assigned  to  the  young  noble- 
men who  were  to  be  presented  to  the  king  and  were  to 
serve  as  aides-de-camp  to  the  generals ;  he  soon  repaired 
thither,  and  was  quickly  armed,  horsed,  and  cuirassed, 
according  to  the  custom  of  the  time,  and  proceeded  alone 
to  the  Spanish  bastion,  —  the  place  of  rendezvous.  He 
was  there  first,  and  found  that  a  small  plot  of  turf, 
hidden  among  the  works  of  the  besieged  place,  had  been 
well  chosen  by  the  little  abbe"  for  his  homicidal  purposes ; 
for  besides  that  no  one  would  have  suspected  officers  of 
going  to  fight  one  another  immediately  beneath  the  town 
which  they  were  attacking,  the  body  of  the  bastion  sepa- 
rated them  from  the  French  camp,  and  would  conceal 


THE  SIEGE.  147 

them  like  an  immense  screen.  It  was  well  to  take  these 
precautions,  for  at  that  time  it  cost  a  man  his  head  to 
give  himself  the  satisfaction  of  hazarding  his  body. 

While  waiting  for  his  friends  and  adversaries,  Cinq- 
Mars  had  time  to  examine  the  south  side  of  Perpignan, 
before  which  he  stood.  He  had  heard  that  these  works 
were  not  those  which  were  to  be  attacked,  and  he  tried 
in  vain  to  account  for  the  besiegers'  projects.  Between 
this  southern  face  of  the  town,  the  mountains  of  Albe"re, 
and  the  Col  du  Perthus,  there  might  have  been  advanta- 
geous lines  of  attack,  and  redoubts  against  the  accessible 
point ;  but  not  a  single  soldier  was  stationed  there.  All 
the  forces  seemed  directed  upon  the  north  of  Perpignan, 
upon  the  most  difficult  side,  against  a  brick  fort  called 
the  Castillet,  which  surmounted  the  gate  of  Notre-Dame. 
He  discovered  that  a  piece  of  ground  apparently  marshy, 
but  really  very  solid,  led  up  to  the  very  foot  of  the  Span- 
ish bastion ;  that  this  post  was  guarded  with  true  Castil- 
ian  negligence,  although  its  sole  strength  lay  entirely  in 
its  defenders,  —  for  its  battlements,  almost  in  ruin,  were 
furnished  with  four  pieces  of  cannon  of  enormous  calibre, 
embedded  in  the  turf,  and  thus  rendered  immovable, 
and  impo'&Sible  to  be  directed  against  a  troop  advancing 
rapidly  to  the  foot  of  the  wall. 

It  was  easy  to  perceive  that  these  enormous  pieces 
had  discouraged  the  besiegers  from  attacking  this  point, 
and  kept  the  besieged  from  any  idea  of  addition  to  its 
means  of  defence.  Thus,  on  the  one  side,  the  vedettes 
and  advanced  posts  were  at  a  distance,  and  on  the  other, 
the  sentinels  were  few  and  ill  supported.  A  young 
Spaniard,  carrying  a  long  gun,  with  its  rest  suspended 


148  CINQ-MARS. 

at  his  side  and  the  burning  match  in  his  right  hand, 
who  was  walking  with  nonchalance  upon  the  rampart, 
stopped  to  look  at  Cinq-Mars,  who  was  riding  about  the 
ditches  and  moats. 

"  Senor  caballero"  said  he,  "  are  you  going  to  take 
the  bastion  by  yourself  on  horseback,  like  Don  Quixote,— 
Quixada  de  la  Mancha  ?  " 

And  at  the  same  time  he  detached  from  his  side  the 
iron  rest,  planted  it  in  the  ground,  and  supported  upon 
it  the  barrel  of  his  gun  in  order  to  take  aim,  when  a 
grave  and  older  Spaniard,  enveloped  in  a  dirty  brown 
cloak,  said  to  him  in  his  own  tongue, — 

"Ambrosio  de  Demonic,  don't  you  know  very  well  that 
it  is  forbidden  to  throw  away  powder  uselessly,  before 
sallies  or  attacks  are  made,  merely  to  have  the  pleasure 
of  killing  a  child  not  worth  your  match  ?  It  was  in  this 
very  place  that  Charles  V.  threw  the  sleeping  sentinel 
into  the  ditch  and  drowned  him.  Do  your  duty,  or  I  will 
follow  his  example." 

Ambrosio  replaced  his  gun  upon  his  shoulder,  his  rest 
at  his  side,  and  continued  his  walk  upon  the  rampart. 

Cinq-Mars  had  been  little  moved  by  this  menacing 
gesture,  contenting  himself  with  tightening  the  reins  of 
his  horse  and  approaching  the  spurs  to  his  sides,  knowing 
that  with  a  single  leap  of  the  nimble  animal  he  should 
be  carried  behind  the  wall  of  a  cabin  which  stood  hard 
by,  and  should  then  be  sheltered  from  the  Spanish  fusil, 
before  the  operation  of  the  fork  and  match  could  be 
completed.  He  knew  too  that  a  tacit  convention  be- 
tween the  two  armies  prohibited  marksmen  from  firing 
upon  the  sentinels ;  each  party  would  have  regarded  it  as 


THE    SIEGE 


THE  SIEGE.  149 

assassination.  The  soldier  who  had  thus  prepared  him- 
self for  attacking  Cinq-Mars  must  have  been  ignorant  of 
the  understanding  in  this  respect.  Young  P'Effiat  there- 
fore made  no  visible  movement ;  and  when  the  sentinel 
resumed  his  walk  upon  the  rampart,  he  again  betook 
himself  to  his  ride  upon  the  turf,  and  presently  saw  five 
cavaliers  directing  their  course  towards  him.  The  two 
first,  who  came  on  at  full  gallop,  did  not  salute  him,  but 
stopping  close  to  him,  leaped  to  the  ground  ;  and  he 
found  himself  in  the  arms  of  the  Counsellor  de  Thou, 
who  embraced  him  tender!}',  while  the  little  Abb£  de 
Gondi,  laughing  with  all  his  heart,  cried, — 

"  Behold  another  Orestes  recovering  his  Pylades,  and 
at  the  moment  of  immolating  a  rogue  who  is  not  of  the 
family  of  the  king  of  kings,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  What !  is  it  you,  my  dear  Cinq-Mars  ?  "  cried  De 
Thou  ;  "  and  I  knew  not  of  your  arrival  in  the  camp ! 
Yes,  it  is  indeed  you  ;  I  recognize  you,  although  indeed 
you  are  very  pale.  Have  you  been  ill,  my  dear  friend  ? 
I  have  often  written  to  you  j  for  my  boyish  friendship 
has  remained  deep  in  my  heart." 

"  And  I,"  answered  Henri  d'Effiat,  "  I  have  been  very 
culpable  towards  you  ;  but  I  will  relate  to  you  all  the 
causes  of  my  neglect.  I  can  speak  of  them,  but  I  was 
ashamed  to  write  them.  But  how  good  you  are  !  Your 
friendship  has  never  relaxed." 

"  I  knew  you  too  well."  replied  De  Thou  ;  "  I  knew 
that  there  could  be  no  coldness  between  us,  and  that  my 
soul  had  its  echo  in  yours." 

With  these  words  they  embraced  once  more,  their 
eyes  moist  with  those  sweet  tears  which  so  seldom  flow 


150  CINQ-MARS. 

ill  one's  life,  but  with  which  it  seems,  nevertheless,  that 
the  heart  is  always  charged,  so  much  ease  do  they  give 
in  flowing. 

This  moment  was  short ;  and  during  these  few  words, 
Gondi  had  been  constantly  pulling  them  by  the  cloak, 
saying,  — 

"  To  horse  !  to  horse,  gentlemen !  Pardieu  !  you  will 
have  time  enough  to  embrace,  if  you  are  so  affectionate  ; 
but  do  not  delay.  Let  our  first  thought  be  to  have  done 
with  our  good  friends  who  are  now  coming.  We  are 
in  a  precious  position,  with  those  three  gaillards  there 
before  us,  the  archers  close  by,  and  the  Spaniards  up 
yonder ;  we  shall  be  under  three  fires." 

He  was  still  speaking,  when  De  Launay,  finding  him- 
self at  about  sixty  paces  from  his  opponents,  with  his 
seconds,  who  were  chosen  from  his  own  friends  rather 
than  from  among  the  partisans  of  the  cardinal,  put  his 
horse  to  a  canter,  advanced  gracefully  towards  his  young 
adversaries,  and  gravely  saluted  them. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  think  that  we  shall  do  well  to  select 
our  men,  and  to  take  the  field;  for  there  is  talk  of 
attacking  the  lines,  and  I  must  be  at  my  post." 

"  We  are  ready,  sir,"  said  Cinq-Mars  ;  "  and  as  for 
selecting  opponents,  I  shall  be  very  glad  to  become 
yours,  for  I  have  not  forgotten  the  Mare'chal  de 
Bassompierre  and  the  wood  of  Chaumont.  You 
know  my  opinion  concerning  your  insolent  visit  to 
my  mother." 

"  You  are  young,  sir ;  you  are  young.  In  regard 
to  Madame,  your  mother,  I  fulfilled  the  duties  of  a  man 
of  the  world ;  towards  the  mare'chal,  those  of  a  captain 


THE  SIEGE.  151 

of  the  guard ;  here,  those  of  a  gentleman  towards  M. 
1'Abbe,  who  has  challenged  me ;  afterwards  I  will 
have  that  honor  with  you." 

"  If  I  allow  you,"  said  the  abbe",  who  was  already  on 
horseback. 

They  took  sixty  paces  of  ground,  —  all  that  was  af- 
forded them  by  the  extent  of  the  meadow  which  enclosed 
them.  The  Abbe  de  Gondi  was  stationed  between  De 
Thou  and  his  friend,  who  sat  nearest  the  ramparts,  upon 
which  two  Spanish  officers  and  a  score  of  soldiers  stood, 
as  in  a  balcony,  to  witness  this  combat  of  six  persons, — 
a  spectacle  common  enough  to  them.  They  exhibited 
the  same  signs  of  joy  as  at  their  bull-fights,  and  laughed 
with  that  savage  and  bitter  laugh  which  their  physiog- 
nomy derives  from  their  Arab  blood. 

At  a  sign  from  Gondi,  the  six  horses  set  off  at  full 
gallop,  and  met,  without  coming  in  contact,  in  the 
middle  of  the  arena  ;  at  that  instant,  six  pistol-shots 
were  heard  almost  together,  and  the  smoke  covered  the 
combatants. 

When  it  dispersed,  of  the  six  cavaliers  and  six  horses 
there  were  but  three  men  and  three  animals  on  their 
legs.  Cinq-Mars  was  on  horseback,  giving  his  hand  to 
his  adversary,  as  calm  as  himself ;  at  the  other  end  of 
the  field,  De  Thou  stood  by  his  opponent,  whose  horse 
he  had  killed,  and  whom  he  was  helping  to  rise.  As  for 
Gondi  and  De  Launay,  neither  of  them  was  to  be  seen. 
Cinq-Mars,  looking  about  for  them  anxiously,  perceived 
the  abbess  horse,  which,  caracoling  and  curvetting,  was 
dragging  after  him  the  future  cardinal,  whose  foot  was 
engaged  in  the  stirrup,  and  who  was  swearing  as  if  he 


152 


CINQ-MARS, 


had  never  studied  anything  but  the  language  of  the 
camp.  His  nose  and  hands  were  bloody  with  his  fall  and 
with  his  efforts  to  seize  the  grass ;  and  he  was  regard- 
ing with  considerable  dissatisfaction  his  horse,  which  in 
spite  of  himself  he  irritated  with  his  spurs,  making  its 
way  to  the  fosse,  filled  with  water,  which  surrounded 
the  bastion,  when,  happily,  Cinq-Mars,  passing  between 
the  edge  of  the  swamp  and  the  animal,  seized  its  bridle 
and  stopped  its  career. 

"  Well,  my  dear  abbe",  I  see  that  no  great  harm  is 
come  to  you,  for  you  speak  with  decided  energy." 

"  Corbleu!"  cried  Gondi,  wiping  the  dust  out  of  his 
eyes,  "  to  fire  a  pistol  in  the  face  of  that  giant  I  had  to 
lean  forward  and  rise  in  my  stirrups,  and  thus  I  lost 
my  balance ;  but  I  fancy  that  he  is  down  too." 

"  You  are  right,  sir,"  said  De  Thou,  coming  up ; 
"  there  is  his  horse  swimming  in  the  fosse  with  its  mas- 
ter, whose  brains  are  blown  out.  We  must  think  now 
of  escaping." 

"  Escaping  !  that,  gentlemen,  will  be  rather  difficult," 
said  the  adversary  of  Cinq-Mars,  approaching.  "  Hark  ! 
there  's  the  cannon-shot,  the  signal  for  the  attack  ;  I  did 
not  expect  it  would  have  been  given  so  soon.  If  we  re- 
turn we  shall  meet  the  Swiss  and  the  lansquenets,  who 
are  engaged  in  this  direction." 

"  M.  de  Fontrailles  says  well,"  said  De  Thou ;  "  but 
if  we  do  not  return,  here  are  these  Spaniards,  who  are 
running  to  arms,  and  whose  balls  we  shall  presently 
have  whistling  about  our  heads." 

"  Well,  let  us  hold  a  council,"  said  Gondi ;  "  summon 
M.  de  Montre'sor,  who  is  uselessly  occupied  in  searching 


THE  SIEGE.  153 

for  the  body  of  poor  De  Launay.  You  have  not  wounded 
him,  M.  de  Thou  ?  " 

"  No,  M.  PAbb£  ;  every  one  has  not  so  good  an  aim  as 
you,"  said  Montre*sor,  bitterly,  limping  from  his  fall. 
"  We  shall  not  have  time  to  continue  with  the  sword." 

"  As  to  continuing,  I  will  not  hear  of  it,  gentlemen," 
said  Fontrailles ;  "  M.  de  Cinq-Mars  has  behaved  too 
nobly  towards  me.  My  pistol  went  off  too  soon,  and  his 
was  at  my  very  cheek,  —  I  feel  the  coldness  of  it  now, — 
but  he  had  the  generosity  to  withdraw  it  and  fire  in  the 
air.  I  shall  not  forget  it ;  and  I  am  his  in  life  and  in 
death." 

"  We  must  think  of  other  things  now,"  interrupted 
Cinq-Mars  ;  "  a  ball  has  just  whistled  past  my  ear.  The 
attack  has  begun  on  all  sides ;  and  we  are  surrounded 
by  friends  and  enemies." 

In  fact,  the  cannonade  was  general ;  the  citadel,  the 
town,  and  the  army  were  covered  with  smoke.  The  bas- 
tion before  them  was  unassailed,  and  its  guards  seemed 
less  intent  on  defending  it  than  on  observing  the  fate  of 
the  other  fortifications. 

"  I  believe  that  the  enemy  has  made  a  sally,"  said 
Montre*sor,  "  for  the  smoke  has  subsided  in  the  plain, 
and  I  see  masses  of  cavalry  charging  under  the  protec- 
tion of  the  batteries." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Cinq-Mars,  who  had  never  ceased 
to  observe  the  walls,  "  there  is  a  very  decided  part  which 
we  could  take,  —  to  enter  this  ill-guarded  bastion." 

"  An  excellent  idea,  sir,"  said  Fontrailles ;  "  but  we 
are  but  five  against  at  least  thirty,  and  are  open  to  view 
and  easily  counted." 


154  CINQ-MARS. 

*'  I'  faith,  the  notion  is  not  a  bad  one,"  said  Gondi ; 
"  it  is  better  to  be  shot  up  there  than  hanged  down  here, 
as  we  shall  be  if  we  are  found,  for  De  Launay  must  be 
already  missed  by  his  company,  and  all  the  court  is  aware 
of  our  quarrel." 

**  Parbleu  !  gentlemen,"  said  Montrdsor,  "  there  is  help 
coming." 

A  troop  of  horse,  numerous,  but  greatly  in  disorder, 
advanced  towards  them  at  full  gallop ;  their  red  uniform 
made  them  visible  far  off.  It  seemed  to  be  their  inten- 
tion to  stop  upon  the  very  ground  on  which  were  our 
embarrassed  duellists,  for  scarcely  had  the  first  cavalier 
reached  it  than  cries  of  "  Halt !  "  were  repeated  and  pro- 
longed by  the  voices  of  the  chiefs  who  were  mingled 
with  their  cavaliers. 

"  Let  us  go  to  them  ;  these  are  the  men-at-arms  of 
the  king's  guard,"  said  Fontrailles.  "  I  recognize  them 
by  their  black  cockades.  I  also  see  many  of  the  light- 
horse  with  them;  let  us  mingle  in  the  disorder,  for  I 
fancy  they  are  ramengs" 

This  is  a  polite  phrase  signifying  in  military  lan- 
guage "put  to  the  rout."  All  five  advanced  towards 
the  animated  and  noisy  troops,  and  found  that  this 
conjecture  was  right.  But  in  place  of  the  consterna- 
tion which  one  might  have  expected  in  such  a  case, 
they  found  nothing  but  a  youthful  and  rattling  gayety, 
and  heard  nothing  but  shouts  of  laughter  in  the  two 
companies. 

"  Ah,  pardieu  !  Cahuzac,"  said  one,  "  thy  horse  runs 
better  than  mine ;  I  suppose  thou  'st  exercised  it  in  the 
king's  hunts  ! " 


THE   SIEGE.  155 

"  Ah,  I  see,  'twas  that  we  might  be  the  sooner  rallied 
that  thou  got'st  here  first,"  answered  the  other. 

"  I  think  the  Marquis  de  Coislin  must,  be  mad,  to  make 
four  hundred  of  us  charge  eight  Spanish  regiments." 

"  Ah,  ah,  ah  !  Locmaria,  your  plume  is  in  fine  trim  ; 
it  looks  like  a  weeping  willow.  If  we  follow  that,,  it 
will  be  to  our  burial." 

"  Ah,  gentlemen,  I  told  you  before,"  angrily  replied 
the  young  officer,  "  I  was  sure  that  that  Capuchin 
Joseph,  who  meddles  in  everything,  was  mistaken  in 
telling  us  to  charge,  upon  the  part  of  the  cardinal.  But 
would  you  have  been  satisfied  if  those  who  have  the 
honor  of  commanding  you  had  refused  to  — " 

"  No,  no,  no !  "  answered  all  the  young  men,  at  the 
same  time  forming  themselves  quickly  into  ranks. 

"  I  said,"  interposed  the  old  Marquis  de  Coislin,  who, 
with  a  white  head,  had  all  the  fire  of  youth  in  his  eyes, 
"  that  if  you  were  commanded  to  mount  to  the  assault 
on  horseback,  you  would  do  it." 

"  Bravo  !  bravo  !  "  cried  all  the  men-at-arms,  clapping 
their  hands. 

"  Well,  M.  le  Marquis,"  said  Cinq-Mars,  approaching, 
"  here  is  an  opportunity  of  executing  what  you  have 
promised.  I  am  merely  a  volunteer ;  but  an  instant 
ago  these  gentlemen  and  I  examined  this  bastion,  and 
I  believe  that  it  is  possible  to  take  it." 

"  Sir,  in  the  first  place,  we  must  examine  the  ditch  to 
see  —  " 

At  this  moment  a  ball  from  the  rampart  of  which 
they  were  speaking  struck  the  horse  of  the  old  officer, 
and  it  fell. 


156  CINQ-MARS. 

"  Locmaria,  De  Mouy,  take  the  command,  and  to  the 
assault !  "  cried  the  two  noble  companies,  believing  their 
leader  dead. 

"  Stop  a  moment,  gentlemen,"  said  old  Coislin,  rising, 
"  I  will  lead  you,  if  you  please.  Guide  us,  sir  volunteer, 
for  the  Spaniards  invite  us  to  this  ball,  and  we  must 
reply  politely." 

Scarcely  had  the  old  man  mounted  another  horse, 
which  one  of  his  men  brought  him,  and  drawn  his 
sword  than,  without  awaiting  his  order,  all  these  ardent 
youth,  preceded  by  Cinq-Mars  and  his  friends,  whose 
horses  were  urged  on  by  the  squadrons  behind,  had 
thrown  themselves  into  the  morass,  wherein,  to  their 
great  astonishment  and  to  that  of  the  Spaniards,  who 
counted  too  much  upon  its  depth  in  that  place,  the 
horses  were  only  in  the  water  up  to  their  hams ;  and  in 
spite  of  a  discharge  of  grape-shot  from  the  two  largest 
pieces,  all  reached  pell-mell  a  slip  of  ground  at  the  foot 
of  the  half-ruined  ramparts.  In  the  ardor  of  the  onset, 
Cinq-Mars  and  Fontrailles,  with  the  young  Locmaria, 
forced  their  horses  on  to  the  rampart  itself ;  but  a  brisk 
fusillade  killed  the  three  animals,  which  rolled  over 
their  masters. 

"  Dismount  all,  gentlemen  ! "  cried  the  old  Coislin ; 
"  forward  with  pistol  and  sword  !  Abandon  your 
horses  ! " 

All  obeyed  instantly,  and  threw  themselves  in  a 
crowd  upon  the  breach. 

Meantime  De  Thou,  whose  coolness  never  quitted  him 
any  more  than  his  friendship,  had  not  lost  sight  of  the 
young  Henri,  and  had  received  him  in  his  arms  when 


THE  SIEGE.  157 

his  horse  fell.  He  placed  him  on  his  feet,  restored  to 
him  his  sword,  which  had  escaped  from  his  hand,  and 
said  to  him  with  the  greatest  calmness,  notwithstanding 
the  balls  which  rained  on  all  sides,  — 

"  My  friend,  don't  I  seem  very  ridiculous  amid 
all  this  skirmish,  with  my  costume  of  counsellor  in 
parliament?" 

"  Parbleu  !  "  said  Montre"sor,  advancing,  "  here 's  the 
abbe",  who  quite  justifies  you." 

And,  in  fact,  the  little  Gondi,  pushing  on  among  the 
light-horsemen,  was  bawling  with  all  his  might,  "  Three 
duels  and  an  assault !  There 's  hopes  of  getting  rid  of 
my  cassock  at  last ! " 

So  saying,  he  cut  and  thrust  at  a  tall  Spaniard. 

The  defence  was  not  long.  The  Castilian  soldiers 
were  no  match  for  the  French  officers,  and  not  one  of 
them  had  time  or  courage  to  recharge  his  carbine. 

"  Gentlemen,  we  will  relate  this  to  our  mistresses  in 
Paris,"  said  Locmaria,  throwing  his  hat  up  in  the  air ; 
and  Cinq-Mars,  De  Thou,  Coislin,  De  Mouy,  Londigny, 
officers  of  the  red  companies,  and  all  the  young  noble- 
men, with  swords  in  their  right  hands  and  pistols  in 
their  left,  dashing,  jostling,  and  doing  each  other  by 
their  eagerness  as  much  harm  as  they  did  the  enemy, 
finally  dashed  upon  the  platform  of  the  bastion,  as 
water  poured  from  a  vase,  of  which  the  opening  is  too 
narrow,  leaps  out  by  intermitted  torrents. 

Disdaining  to  occupy  themselves  with  the  vanquished 
soldiers  who  cast  themselves  at  their  feet,  they  left 
them  to  look  about  the  fort,  without  even  disarming 
them,  and  set  off  examining  their  conquest,  like  school- 


158  CINQ-MARS. 

boys  in  their  holidays,  laughing  with  all  their  hearts,  as 
if  it  had  been  a  party  of  pleasure. 

A  Spanish  officer,  enveloped  in  his  brown  cloak, 
watched  them  with  a  sombre  air. 

"  What  demons  are  these,  Ambrosio  V "  said  he  to  a 
soldier.  "  I  have  never  met  with  any  such  before  in 
France.  If  Louis  XIII.  has  an  entire  army  thus  com- 
posed, it  is  very  good  of  him  not  to  conquer  Europe." 

"  Oh,  I  do  not  believe  that  they  are  very  numerous , 
they  must  be  some  poor  adventurers,  who  have  nothing 
to  lose,  and  all  to  gain  by  pillage." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  the  officer  ;  "  I  will  go  and  try 
to  get  one  of  them  to  let  me  escape." 

And  slowly  approaching,  he  accosted  a  young  light- 
horseman,  of  about  eighteen,  who  was  sitting  apart  from 
his  comrades  upon  the  parapet.  He  had  the  white  and 
red  complexion  of  a  young  girl ;  his  delicate  hand  held 
an  embroidered  handkerchief,  with  which  he  wiped  his 
forehead  and  his  golden  locks.  He  was  looking  at  a 
great  round  watch  set  with  rubies  and  suspended  from 
his  girdle  by  a  knot  of  ribbons. 

The  astonished  Spaniard  paused.  If  he  had  not  seen 
him  overthrow  his  soldiers,  he  would  not  have  believed 
him  capable  of  anything  beyond  singing  a  romance, 
reclined  upon  a  couch.  But  filled  with  the  suggestion 
of  Ambrosio,  he  thought  that  he  might  have  stolen 
these  objects  of  luxury  in  the  pillage  of  the  apartments 
of  a  woman ;  so,  going  abruptly  up  to  him,  he  said,  — 

"  Hombre  !  I  am  an  officer ;  will  you  restore  me  to 
liberty,  that  I  may  once  more  see  my  country  ?  " 

The  young  Frenchman  looked  at  him  with  the  gentle 


THE  SIEGE.  159 

air  of  his  age,  and  thinking  of  his  own  family,  he 
said,  — 

"  Sir,  I  will  present  you  to  the  Marquis  de  Coislin, 
who  will,  I  doubt  not,  grant  your  request ;  is  your  fam- 
ily of  Castile  or  of  Aragon  ? " 

"  Your  Coislin  will  ask  the  permission  of  somebody 
else,  and  will  make  me  wait  a  year.  I  will  give  you 
four  thousand  ducats  if  you  will  afford  me  the  means 
of  escape." 

That  gentle  face,  those  girlish  features,  became  in- 
fused with  the  purple  of  fury ;  those  blue  eyes  shot 
forth  lightning ;  and  exclaiming,  "  Money  to  me !  away, 
fool ! "  the  young  man  gave  the  Spaniard  a  ringing  box 
on  the  ear.  The  latter,  without  hesitating,  drew  a  long 
poniard  from  his  breast,  and  seizing  the  arm  of  the 
Frenchman,  thought  to  plunge  it  readily  into  his  heart ; 
but,  nimble  and  vigorous,  the  youth  took  him  by  the 
right  arm,  and  lifting  it  with  force  above  his  head,  sent 
it  back  with  the  weapon  it  held  upon  the  head  of  the 
Spaniard,  who  was  furious  with  passion. 

"  Eh  !  eh !  Softly,  Olivier  ! "  cried  his  comrades,  run- 
ning from  all  directions  ;  "  there  are  Spaniards  enough 
on  the  ground  already." 

And  they  disarmed  the  hostile  officer. 

"  What  shall  we  do  with  this  madman  ?  " 

"  I  should  not  like  to  have  him  for  my  valet-de- 
chambre"  returned  another^ 

"  He  deserves  to  be  hanged,"  said  a  third ;  "  but, 
i'  faith,  gentlemen,  we  don't  know  how  to  hang.  Send 
him  to  that  battalion  of  Swiss  which  is  now  passing  on 
the  plain." 


160  CINQ-MARS. 

And  that  calm  and  sombre  man,  enveloping  himself 
anew  in  his  cloak,  began  his  march  of  his  own  accord, 
followed  by  Ambrosio,  to  join  the  battalion,  pushed  by 
the  shoulders  and  urged  on  by  five  or  six  of  these  young 
madcaps. 

Meantime,  the  first  troop  of  the  besiegers,  astonished 
at  their  success,  had  followed  it  out  to  the  end ;  Cinq- 
Mars,  so  advised  by  the  aged  Coislin,  had  made  with  him 
the  circuit  of  the  bastion,  and  found  to  their  vexation 
that  it  was  completely  separated  from  the  city,  and  that 
they  could  not  follow  up  their  advantage.  They  there- 
fore returned  slowly  to  the  platform,  talking  by  the  way, 
to  rejoin  De  Thou  and  the  Abbe"  de  Gondi,  whom  they 
found  laughing  with  the  young  light-horsemen. 

"  We  have  Religion  and  Justice  with  us,  gentlemen ; 
we  could  not  fail  to  triumph." 

"  Yes,  for  they  struck  as  hard  as  we." 

There  was  silence  at  the  approach  of  Cinq-Mars,  and 
they  remained  for  an  instant  whispering  and  asking  his 
name ;  then  all  surrounded  him,  and  took  his  hand  with 
transport. 

"Gentlemen,  you  are  right,"  said  their  old  captain; 
"  he  is,  as  our  fathers  used  to  say,  the  lest  doer  of  the 
day.  He  is  a  volunteer,  who  is  to  be  presented  to-day 
to  the  king  by  the  cardinal." 

"  By  the  cardinal !  we  will  present  him  ourselves. 
Ah,  don't  let  him  be  a  Cardinalist ;  he  is  too  good  a 
fellow  for  that!"  exclaimed  all  the  young  men,  with 
vivacity. 

"  Sir,  I  will  disgust  you  with  him,"  said  Olivier 
d'Entraigues,  approaching  Cinq-Mars,  "  for  I  have  been 


THE  SIEGE.  161 

his  page.     Rather  serve  in  the  red  companies ;  come, 
you  will  have  good  comrades  there." 

The  old  marquis  saved  Cinq-Mars  the  embarrassment 
of  answering  by  causing  the  trumpets  to  sound  and 
rally  his  brilliant  companies.  The  cannon  was  no  longer 
heard,  and  a  soldier  announced  that  the  king  and  the 
cardinal  were  traversing  the  lines  to  examine  the  results 
of  the  day ;  he  made  all  the  horses  pass  through  the 
breach,  which  was  tolerably  wide,  and  ranged  the  two 
companies  in  battle  order,  upon  a  spot  whither  it  seemed 
impossible  for  any  but  infantry  to  penetrate. 


VOL.  i.  — 11 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE    REWARD. 

Ah !  comme  du  butin  ces  guerriers  trop  jaloux 
Courent  bride  abattue  au-devant  des  mes  coups, 
Agitez  tous  leurs  sens  d'une  rage  insensee, 
Tambour,  fifre,  trompette,  otez-leur  la  pensee. 

N.  LEMERCIEH,  Panhypocrisiade. 

RICHELIEU  had  said  within  himself,  "  To  assuage  the 
first  paroxysm  of  the  royal  grief,  to  open  a  source  of 
emotions  which  shall  withdraw  this  wavering  soul  from 
its  sorrow,  let  this  city  be  besieged  ;  I  consent.  Let 
Louis  go ;  I  will  allow  him  to  strike  a  few  poor  soldiers 
with  the  blows  which  he  would,  but  dare  not,  inflict  on 
me.  Let  his  anger  quench  itself  in  this  obscure  blood ; 
I  agree.  But  this  caprice  of  glory  shall  not  derange  my 
immutable  designs ;  this  city  shall  not  fall  yet.  It  shall 
not  be  French  forever  until  two  years  have  past ;  it  shall 
come  into  my  nets  only  on  the  day  which  I  have  deter- 
mined in  my  own  mind.  Thunder,  bombs  and  cannons ; 
meditate  your  operations,  skilful  captains ;  hurry  on, 
young  warriors.  I  will  silence  your  noise,  I  will  dissi- 


THE  REWARD.  163 

pate  your  projects,  and  make  your  efforts  abortive ;  all 
shall  end  in  empty  smoke,  for  I  will  conduct  in  order 
to  mislead  you." 

Such  is  pretty  nearly  what  passed  in  the  bald  head 
of  the  old  cardinal  before  the  attack  of  which  we  have 
witnessed  a  portion.  He  was  stationed  on  horseback,  to 
the  north  of  the  city,  upon  one  of  the  mountains  of  Salces; 
from  this  point  he  could  see  the  plain  of  Roussillon  be- 
fore him,  sloping  to  the  Mediterranean.  Perpignan,  with 
its  ramparts  of  brick,  its  bastions,  its  citadel,  and  its 
spire,  formed  upon  this  plain  an  oval  and  sombre  mass 
amid  broad  and  verdant  meads ;  and  the  vast  mountains 
surrounded  it  and  the  valley  like  an  enormous  bow  bent 
from  north  to  south,  while,  stretching  its  white  line  in 
the  east,  the  sea  seemed  its  silver  cord.  On  his  right 
rose  that  immense  mountain  which  is  called  the  Canigou, 
whose  sides  send  forth  two  rivers  into  the  plain  below. 
The  French  line  extended  to  the  foot  of  this  western 
barrier.  A  crowd  of  generals  and  of  great  lords  were 
on  horseback  behind  the  minister,  but  at  twenty  paces' 
distance  and  profoundly  silent.  He  had  at  first  slowly 
followed  the  line  of  operations,  but  afterwards  returned 
and  stationed  himself  upon  this  height,  whence  his  eye 
and  his  thought  hovered  over  the  destinies  of  besieg- 
ers and  besieged.  The  army  had  its  eyes  upon  him, 
and  could  see  him  from  every  point.  The  whole  of  the 
troops  looked  upon  him  as  their  immediate  chief,  and 
awaited  the  direction  of  his  gesture  before  they  acted. 
For  a  long  time  France  had  bent  beneath  his  yoke  ;  and 
admiration  shielded  all  his  actions  from  the  ridicule  to 
which  another  would  have  been  often  subjected.  At  this 


164  CINQ-MARS. 

moment,  for  instance,  no  one  thought  of  smiling,  or  of 
feeling  surprised  even,  that  the  cuirass  should  clothe  the 
priest ;  and  the  severity  of  his  character  and  aspect  sup- 
pressed every  thought  of  ironical  comparisons  or  imper- 
tinent conjectures.  This  day  the  cardinal  appeared  in 
a  costume  entirely  warlike :  he  wore  a  coat  of  a  reddish- 
brown,  embroidered  with  gold,  a  water-colored  cuirass,  a 
sword  at  his  side,  pistols  at  his  saddle-bow,  and  he  had 
a  plumed  hat ;  but  this  he  rarely  placed  upon  his  head, 
which  was  still  covered  with  the  red  cap.  Two  pages 
were  behind  him;  one  carried  his  gauntlets,  the  other 
his  casque,  and  the  captain  of  his  guards  was  at  his 
side. 

As  the  king  had  recently  named  him  generalissimo  of 
his  troops,  it  was  to  him  that  the  generals  sent  for  their 
orders ;  but  he,  knowing  full  well  the  secret  motives  of 
his  master's  present  anger,  ostentatiously  referred  to  that 
prince  all  who  sought  a  decision  from  his  own  mouth. 
It  happened  as  he  had  foreseen;  for  he  regulated  and 
calculated  the  movements  of  that  heart  as  those  of  a 
watch,  and  could  have  told  with  precision  through  what 
sensations  it  had  passed.  Louis  XIII.  came  and  placed 
himself  at  his  side ;  but  he  came  as  a  pupil,  forced  to 
acknowledge  that  his  master  is  in  the  right.  His  air 
was  haughty  and  dissatisfied,  his  language  brusque  and 
dry.  The  cardinal  displayed  no  emotion.  It  was  re- 
marked that  the  king,  in  consulting  him,  employed  the 
words  of  command,  thus  reconciling  his  weakness  and 
his  power  of  place,  his  irresolution  and  his  pride,  his 
ignorance  and  his  pretensions,  while  his  minister  dictated 
laws  to  him  in  a  tone  of  the  most  profound  obedience. 


THE  REWARD.  165 

"  I  will  have  them  attack  immediately,  Cardinal,"  said 
the  prince,  on  coming  up ;  "  that  is  to  say,"  added  he, 
with  an  air  of  carelessness,  "  when  all  your  preparations 
are  made,  and  you  have  determined  with  our  generals 
upon  the  hour." 

"  Sire,  if  I  might  venture  to  express  my  judgment,  I 
should  be  glad  did  your  Majesty  think  fit  to  commence 
the  attack  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  for  that  will  give 
time  enough  to  advance  the  third  line." 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  right,  M.  le  Cardinal !  I  think  so  too.  I  will 
go  and  give  my  orders  myself ;  I  wish  to  do  everything 
myself.  —  Schomberg,  Schomberg !  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  let  me  hear  the  signal  gun ;  I  will  have  it  so." 

And  Schomberg,  proceeding  to  take  the  command  of 
the  right  wing,  gave  the  order,  and  the  signal  was  made. 

The  batteries,  arranged  long  since  by  the  Mare'chal  de 
la  Meilleraie,  began  to  batter  a  breach,  but  slackly,  be- 
cause the  artillerymen  felt  that  they  had  been  directed  to 
attack  two  impregnable  points ,  and  because  with  their 
experience,  and  above  all  with  the  straightforward  sense 
and  rapid  perception  of  French  soldiers,  any  one  of  them 
could  at  once  have  indicated  the  point  against  which 
the  attack  ought  to  have  been  directed.  The  king  was 
surprised  at  the  slowness  of  the  firing. 

"  La  Meilleraie,"  said  he,  impatiently,  "  these  batteries 
do  not  play ;  your  cannoneers  are  asleep." 

With  the  mare'chal  the  principal  artillery  officers 
were  present ;  but  no  one  answered  a  syllable.  They 
had  looked  towards  the  cardinal,  who  remained  as  im- 
movable as  an  equestrian  statue,  and  they  imitated  his 
example.  The  answer  must  have  been  that  the  fault 


166  CINQ-MARS. 

was  not  with  the  soldiers,  but  with  him  who  had  ordered 
this  false  disposition  of  the  batteries ;  and  this  was 
Richelieu  himself,  who,  pretending  to  believe  them  more 
useful  as  they  were,  had  at  once  stopped  the  remarks 
of  the  chiefs. 

The  king  was  astonished  at  this  silence,  and  fearing 
that  he  had  committed  some  gross  military  blunder  by 
his  question,  slightly  blushed,  and  approaching  the  group 
of  princes  who  had  accompanied  him,  said,  in  order  to 
reassure  himself, — 

"  D'Angouleme,  Beaufort,  it  is  very  tiresome,  is  it 
not?  We  stand  here  like  mummies." 

Charles  de  Yalois  drew  near,  and  said,  — 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Sire,  that  they  are  not  employing 
here  the  machines  of  the  engineer  Pompe"e-Targon." 

"  Parbleu  !  "  said  the  Due  de  Beaufort,  fixedly  regard- 
ing Richelieu,  "  that  is  because  we  had  more  desire  to 
take  Rochelle  than  Perpignan  at  the  time  that  Italian 
came.  Here  we  have  not  an  engine  ready,  not  a  mine, 
not  a  petard  beneath  these  walls ;  and  the  Marechal  de 
la  Meilleraie  told  me  this  morning  that  he  had  proposed 
to  bring  up  some  to  open  the  breach  with.  It  was 
neither  the  Castillet,  nor  the  six  great  bastions  which 
surround  it,  nor  the  half-moon,  we  ought  to  have 
attacked.  If  we  go  on  in  this  way,  the  great  stone 
arm  of  the  citadel  will  show  us  its  fist  long  enough 
yet." 

The  cardinal,  still  motionless,  said  not  a  single  word ; 
he  only  beckoned  to  him  Fabert,  who  left  the  group  in 
attendance,  and  ranged  his  horse  behind  that  of  the  car- 
dinal, close  to  the  captain  of  the  guards. 


THE  REWARD.  167 

The  Due  de  la  Rochefoucauld,  drawing  near  the  king, 
said,  — 

"  I  believe,  Sire,  that  our  inactivity  makes  the  enemy 
insolent,  for  see,  here 's  a  numerous  sally,  directing  it- 
self right  towards  your  Majesty  ;  the  regiments  of  Biron 
and  De  Fonts  fall  back  after  firing." 

"  Well !  "  said  the  king,  drawing  his  sword,  "  let  us 
charge,  and  force  those  vagabonds  back  again.  Set 
on  the  cavalry  with  me,  D'Angouleme.  Where  is  it, 
Cardinal?" 

"  Behind  that  hill,  Sire,  there  are  in  column  six  regi- 
ments of  dragoons,  and  the  carabineers  of  La  Roque  ; 
below  you  are  my  men-at-arms  and  my  light-horse, 
whom  I  pray  your  Majesty  to  employ,  for  those  of  your 
Majesty's  guard  are  ill  guided  by  the  Marquis  de  Coislin, 
ever  too  zealous.  Joseph,  go  tell  him  to  return." 

He  whispered  to  the  Capuchin,  who  had  accompanied 
him,  huddled  up  in  a  military  dress  which  he  wore  awk- 
wardly, and  who  immediately  advanced  into  the  plain. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  compact  columns  of  the  old 
Spanish  infantry  issued  from  the  gate  of  Notre-Dame 
like  a  dark  and  moving  forest,  while  from  another  gate 
came  forth  the  heavy  cavalry,  which  drew  up  upon  the 
plain.  The  French  army,  in  battle-array  at  the  foot  of 
the  hill  where  the  king  stood,  behind  fortifications  of 
earth,  behind  redoubts  and  fascines  of  turf,  perceived 
with  alarm  the  men-at-arms  and  the  light-horse  pressed 
between  these  two  forces,  ten  times  their  superiors  in 
numbers. 

"  Sound  the  charge !  "  cried  Louis  XIII. ;  "  or  my  old 
Coislin  is  lost." 


168  CINQ-MARS. 

And  he  descended  the  hill,  with  all  his  suite  as  ardent 
as  himself ;  but  before  he  was  on  the  plain  and  at  the 
head  of  his  musketeers,  the  two  companies  had  taken 
their  course,  dashing  off  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning, 
and  to  the  cry  of  "  Vive  le  roi ! "  fell  upon  the  long 
column  of  the  enemy's  cavalry  like  two  vultures  upon 
the  sides  of  a  serpent ;  and  making  a  large  and  bloody 
gap,  they  passed  beyond,  and  rallied  behind  the  Spanish 
bastion,  as  we  have  seen,  leaving  the  enemy's  cavalry 
so  astonished  that  they  thought  only  of  re-forming  them- 
selves, and  not  of  pursuing. 

The  French  army  sent  forth  one  shout  of  applause ; 
the  king  paused  in  amazement.  He  looked  around  him, 
and  saw  a  burning  desire  for  attack  in  all  eyes ;  the 
valor  of  his  race  shone  in  his  own.  He  paused  yet  an- 
other instant  in  suspense,  listening  with  intoxication  to 
the  roar  of  the  cannon,  respiring  and  snuffing  up  the 
odor  of  the  powder ;  he  seemed  to  receive  another  life, 
and  to  become  once  more  a  Bourbon.  All  who  looked 
on  him  felt  as  though  they  were  commanded  by  another 
man,  when,  raising  his  sword  and  his  eyes  towards  the 
sun,  he  cried,  — 

"  Follow  me,  brave  friends !  here  I  am  King  of 
France ! " 

His  cavalry,  deploying,  dashed  off  with  an  ardor  which 
devoured  space,  and  raising  billows  of  dust  from  the 
ground,  which  trembled  beneath  them,  they  were  in  an 
instant  mingled  with  the  Spanish  cavalry,  and  both  were 
swallowed  up  in  an  immense  and  fluctuating  cloud. 

"  Now !  now ! "  cried  the  cardinal,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder,  from  his  elevation,  "  now  remove  the  guns 


THE  REWARD.  169 

from  their  useless  position  !  Fabert,  give  your  orders ; 
let  them  be  all  directed  upon  the  infantry  which  slowly 
approaches  to  surround  the  king.  Haste,  save  the 
king!" 

Immediately  the  cardinal's  suite,  hitherto  sitting  erect 
as  so  many  statues,  were  in  motion.  The  generals  gave 
their  orders ;  the  aides-de-camp  galloped  off  into  the 
plain,  where,  leaping  over  the  ditches,  barriers,  and  pali- 
sades, they  arrived  at  their  destination  almost  as  rapidly 
as  the  thoughts  that  directed  them  and  the  glances  that 
followed  them. 

Suddenly  the  few  and  interrupted  flashes  which  had 
shone  from  the  before  discouraged  batteries  became  a 
continual  and  immense  flame,  leaving  no  room  for  the 
smoke,  which  rose  to  the  sky  in  an  infinite  number  of 
light  and  floating  wreaths  ;  the  volleys  of  cannon,  which 
seemed  of  late  like  far  and  feeble  echoes,  changed  into 
a  formidable  thunder  whose  roll  was  as  unintermitted 
as  that  of  drums  beating  the  charge  ;  while  from  three 
opposite  points  large  red  flashes  from  fiery  mouths  fell 
upon  the  dark  columns  which  issued  from  the  besieged 
city. 

Meantime,  without  changing  his  position,  but  with 
ardent  eyes  and  imperative  gestures,  Richelieu  ceased 
not  to  multiply  his  orders,  casting  upon  those  who  re- 
ceived them  a  look  which  implied  a  sentence  of  death  if 
he  was  not  at  once  obeyed. 

"  The  king  has  overthrown  the  cavalry  ;  but  the  foot 
still  resist.  Our  batteries  have  only  killed,  they  have 
not  conquered.  Forward  with  three  regiments  of  in- 
fantry instantly,  Gassion,  La  Meilleraie,  and  Lesdi- 


170  CINQ-MARS. 

guiores !  Take  the  enemy's  columns  in  flank.  Order 
the  rest  of  the  army  to  cease  from  the  attack,  and  to 
remain  motionless  throughout  the  whole  line.  Some 
paper!  I  will  write  myself  to  Schomberg." 

A  page  alighted  and  advanced,  holding  a  pencil  and 
paper.  The  minister,  supported  by  four  men  of  his 
suite,  also  alighted  with  difficulty,  sending  forth  a  cry, 
wrested  from  him  by  pain;  but  he  quelled  it  by  an  ef- 
fort, and  seated  himself  upon  the  carriage  of  a  cannon. 
The  page  presented  his  shoulder  as  a  desk  ;  and  the  car- 
dinal hastily  penned  that  order  which  contemporary 
manuscripts  have  transmitted  to  us,  and  which  might 
well  be  imitated  by  the  diplomatists  of  our  day,  who  are, 
it  would  seem,  more  anxious  to  maintain  themselves  in 
perfect  balance  between  two  ideas  than  to  wield  those 
combinations  which  decide  the  destinies  of  the  world, 
regarding  the  clear  and  obvious  dictates  of  true  genius 
as  beneath  their  profound  subtlety. 

"  M.  le  Marechal,  do  not  risk  anything,  and  think  well  be- 
fore you  attack.  When  you  are  thus  told  that  the  king 
desires  you  not  to  risk  anything,  you  are  not  to  understand 
that  his  Majestj"  forbids  you  to  fight  at  all ;  but  his  inten- 
tion is  that  you  do  not  engage  in  a  general  battle  unless  it 
be  with  a  notable  hope  of  gain  from  the  advantage  which  a 
favorable  situation  may  present,  the  responsibility  of  the 
battle  naturally  falling  upon  you." 

These  orders  given,  the  old  minister,  still  seated  upon 
the  carriage  of  the  gun,  his  arms  resting  upon  the  touch- 
hole,  and  his  chin  upon  his  arms,  in  the  attitude  of  one 
who  adjusts  and  points  a  cannon,  continued  in  silence 
to  watch  the  battle,  like  an  old  wolf,  which,  sated  with 


THE  REWARD.  171 

victims  and  torpid  with  age,  contemplates  in  the  plain 
the  ravages  of  a  lion  among  a  herd  of  cattle,  which  he 
dares  not  himself  attack.  From  time  to  time  his  eye 
glares  ;  the  smell  of  blood  rejoices  him  ;  and,  full  of  the 
recollection  of  past  feasts,  he  passes  his  burning  tongue 
over  his  toothless  jaw. 

Upon  that  day,  it  was  remarked  by  his  servants  —  or 
in  other  words,  by  all  around  him  —  that  from  the  time 
of  his  rising  till  night  he  took  no  nourishment,  and  so 
fixed  all  the  application  of  his  soul  upon  the  events 
which  he  had  to  conduct  that  he  triumphed  over  his 
physical  pains,  seeming  in  forgetting  to  have  destroyed 
them.  It  was  this  power  of  attention,  this  constant 
presence  of  mind,  that  raised  him  almost  to  genius.  He 
would  have  attained  it  quite,  had  he  not  wanted  native 
elevation  of  soul  and  generous  sensibility  of  heart. 

Everything  passed  upon  the  field  of  battle  as  he  had 
planned,  fortune  attending  him  alike  there  and  in  the 
cabinet.  Louis  XIII.  appropriated  with  -eager  hand  the 
victory  which  his  minister  had  procured  for  him ;  he 
had  contributed  personally,  however,  only  that  grandeur 
which  consists  in  personal  valor. 

The  cannon  had  ceased  to  roar  when  the  broken 
columns  of  infantry  fell  back  into  Perpignan.;  the 
Spanish  cavalry,  greatly  cut  up,  was  already  within 
the  walls,  and  no  living  man  was  to  be  seen  on  the 
plain,  save  the  glittering  squadrons  of  the  king,  who 
followed  him,  forming  their  ranks  as  they  went. 

He  returned  at  -a  walking  pace,  and  contemplated 
with  satisfaction  the  battle-field  swept  clear  of  enemies  ; 
he  passed  haughtily  under  the  very  fire  of  the  Spanish 


172  CINQ-MARS. 

pieces,  which,  whether  from  unskilfulness,  or  by  a  secret 
agreement  with  the  prime  minister,  or  from  very  shame 
to  kill  a  king  of  France,  only  sent  after  him  a  few  balls, 
which,  passing  two  feet  above  his  head,  fell  in  front 
of  the  lines,  and  merely  served  to  increase  the  royal 
reputation  for  courage. 

At  every  step,  however,  that  he  made  towards  the 
place  where  Richelieu  awaited  him,  his  countenance 
changed  and  visibly  fell ;  he  lost  all  the  flush  of  combat ; 
the  noble  sweat  of  triumph  died  upon  his  brow.  In 
proportion  as  he  approached,  his  accustomed  paleness 
returned  to  his  face,  as  if  having  the  right  to  sit  alone 
on  a  royal  head  ;  his  look  lost  its  transient  fire,  and 
at  last,  when  he  joined  him,  a  profound  melancholy 
entirely  possessed  him.  He  found  the  cardinal  as  he 
had  left  him,  on  horseback ;  the  latter,  still  coldly  re- 
spectful, bowed,  and  after  a  few  words  of  compliment, 
placed  himself  near  Louis  to  traverse  the  lines  and 
examine  the  results  of  the  day,  while  the  princes  and 
great  lords,  riding  at  some  distance  before  and  behind, 
formed,  as  it  were,  a  crowd  around  them. 

The  skilful  minister  was  careful  not  to  say  a  word  or 
make  a  gesture  that  could  suggest  the  idea  that  he  had 
the  slightest  share  in  the  events  of  the  day  ;  and  it  was 
remarkable  that  of  all  those  who  came  up  to  give  in 
their  reports,  each  seemed  to  divine  his  thoughts,  to  be 
careful  not  to  compromise  his  occult  power  by  open 
obedience.  Every  report  was  made  to  the  king.  The 
cardinal  then  traversed,  by  the  side  of  the  prince,  the 
right  of  the  camp,  which  had  not  been  under  his  view 
from  the  height  where  he  had  placed  himself;  and  he 


THE  REWARD.  173 

saw  with  satisfaction  that  Schomberg,  who  knew  him 
well,  had  acted  precisely  as  he  had  directed,  bringing 
into  action  only  a  few  of  the  light  troops,  and  fighting 
just  enough  not  to  incur  reproach  for  inaction,  and 
not  enough  to  obtain  any  distinct  result.  This  line 
of  conduct  delighted  the  minister,  and  in  no  way  dis- 
pleased the  king,  whose  vanity  cherished  the  idea  of 
having  been  the  sole  conqueror  that  day.  He  even 
wished  to  persuade  himself,  and  to  have  it  supposed, 
that  all  the  efforts  of  Schomberg  had  been  ineffectual, 
telling  him  that  he  was  not  angry  with  him,  that  he 
had  himself  just  had  proof  that  the  enemy  before  him 
was  less  despicable  than  had  been  supposed. 

"  To  show  you  that  you  have  lost  nothing  in  our  esti- 
mation," he  added,  "we  name  you  a  knight  of  our  order, 
and  we  give  you  public  and  private  access  to  our  person." 

The  cardinal  affectionately  pressed  his  hand  as  he 
passed  him,  and  the  mare'chal,  astonished  at  this  deluge 
of  favors,  followed  the  prince  with  his  head  down,  like 
a  culprit,  recalling,  to  console  himself,  all  the  brilliant 
actions  of  his  career  which  had  remained  unnoticed, 
and  mentally  attributing  to  them  these  unmerited  re- 
wards, as  a  salvo  to  his  conscience. 

The  king  was  about  to  retrace  his  steps,  when  the 
Due  de  Beaufort,  with  an  amazed  air,  exclaimed, — 

"  But,  Sire,  have  I  still  the  powder  in  my  eyes,  or 
have  I  been  struck  mad  with  the  sun?  It  appears  to 
me  that  I  see  upon  yonder  bastion  cavaliers  in  a  red 
uniform  who  monstrously  resemble  your  light-horse 
whom  we  thought  to  be  killed." 

The  cardinal  knitted  his  brows. 


174  CINQ-MARS. 

"  Impossible,  Monsieur,"  he  said  ;  "  the  imprudence  of 
M.  de  Coislin  has  destroyed  his  Majesty's  men-at-arms 
and  those  cavaliers.  It  is  for  that  reason  I  ventured 
just  now  to  say  to  the  king  that  if  the  useless  corps 
were  suppressed,  it  might  be  very  advantageous  in  a 
military  point  of  view." 

"  Pardieu!  your  Eminence  will  pardon  me,"  answered 
the  Due  de  Beaufort ;  "  but  I  do  not  deceive  myself,  and 
there  are  seven  or  eight  of  them  driving  prisoners  be- 
fore them." 

"  Well !  let  us  go  to  the  point,"  said  the  king ;  "  I 
shall  be  very  glad  to  find  my  old  Coislin  there." 

It  was  with  great  caution  that  the  horses  of  the  king 
and  his  suite  passed  across  the  marsh,  and  with  infinite 
astonishment  that  their  riders  saw  on  the  ramparts  the 
two  red  companies  in  battalia  as  on  parade. 

"  Vive  Dieu ! "  cried  Louis ;  "  I  don't  think  there's 
one  of  them  missing.  Well,  -Marquis,  you  keep  your 
word,  —  you  take  walls  on  horseback." 

"  The  place  taken  was  well  selected,"  said  Richelieu, 
contemptuously ;  "  it  in  no  way  advances  the  taking  of 
Perpignan,  and  must  have  cost  many  lives." 

"  I'  faith,  there  you  are  right,"  said  the  king,  for  the 
first  time  since  the  intelligence  of  the  queen's  death 
addressing  the  cardinal  without  coldness  or  asperity ; 
"  I  regret  the  blood  which  must  have  been  spilled 
here." 

"  There  have  only  been  two  of  our  young  people 
wounded  in  the  attack,  Sire,"  said  old  Coislin ;  "  and 
we  have  gained  new  companions  in  arms,  in  the  volun- 
teers who  guided  us." 


THE  REWARD.  175 

"  Who  are  they  ?  "  said  the  prince. 

"Three  of  them  have  modestly  retired,  Sire ;  but  the 
youngest,  whom  you  see,  was  the  firs't  who.  proposed  the 
assault,  and  the  first  to  venture  his  body  in  making  it. 
The  two  companies  claim  the  honor  of  presenting  him 
to  your  Majesty." 

Cinq-Mars,  who  was  on  horseback  behind  the  old 
captain,  took  off  his  hat  and  showed  his  pale  face,  his 
large  dark  eyes,  and  his  long  chestnut  hair. 

"  Those  features  remind  me  of  some  one,"  said  the 
king ;  "  what  say  you,  Cardinal  ?  " 

The  latter,  who  had  already  cast  a  penetrating  glance 
at  the  new-comer,  replied,  — 

"  Unless  I  am  mistaken,  this  young  man  is  —  " 
.   "  Henri  d'Effiat,"  said  the  volunteer,  bowing. 

"  Sire,  it  is  the  same  whom  I  had  announced  to  your 
Majesty,  and  who  was  to  have  been  presented  to  you 
by  me ;  the  second  son  of  the  mare'chal." 

"  Ah ! "  said  Louis,  warmly,  "  I  am  glad  to  see  the 
son  of  my  old  friend  presented  by  this  bastion.  'T  is  a 
suitable  introduction,  my  boy,  for  one  bearing  your 
name.  You  will  follow  us  to  the  camp,  where  we  have 
much  to  say  to  you.  But  what !  you  here,  M.  de  Thou  ? 
Whom  came  you  to  judge  ? " 

"  Sire,"  answered  Coislin,  "  he  has  condemned  to 
death,  without  judging,  sundry  Spaniards,  for  he  was 
the  second  to  enter  the  place." 

"  I  struck  no  one,  sir,"  interrupted  De  Thou,  red- 
dening ;  "  't  is  not  my  business.  Herein  I  have  no 
merit;  I  merely  accompanied  my  friend,  M.  de  Cinq- 
Mars." 


176  CINQ-MARS. 

"  We  love  your  modesty  alike  with  your  bravery,  and 
we  will  not  forget  this.  Cardinal,  is  there  not  some 
presidency  vacant  ?  " 

Richelieu  did  not  like  De  Thou.  And  as  the  source 
of  his  dislike  was  always  mysterious,  it  was  difficult  to 
guess  the  cause  of  this  animosity  ;  it  revealed  itself  in  a 
heartless  expression  that  escaped  him.  The  motive 
was  a  passage  in  the  history  of  the  President  De 
Thou,  —  the  father  of  the  young  man  now  in  ques- 
tion, —  wherein  he  stigmatized  in  the  eyes  of  posterity 
a  grand-uncle  of  the  cardinal,  an  apostate  monk,  sul- 
lied with  every  human  vice. 

Richelieu,  bending  his  head  to  the  ear  of  Joseph, 
whispered,  — 

"  You  see  that  man ;  his  father  put  my  name  into  his 
history.  Well,  I  will  put  his  into  mine."  And,  truly 
enough,  he  subsequently  wrote  it  in  blood.  At  this 
moment,  to  avoid  answering  the  king,  he  feigned  not 
to  have  heard  his  question,  and  to  be  wholly  intent  upon 
the  merit  of  Cinq-Mars  and  the  desire  to  see  him  well 
placed  at  court. 

"  I  promised  you  beforehand  to  make  him  a  captain 
in  my  guards,"  said  the  prince  ;  "  let  him  be  nominated 
to-morrow.  I  would  know  more  of  him,  and  raise  him 
to  a  higher  fortune,  if  he  pleases  me.  Let  us  now 
retire ;  the  sun  has  set,  and  we  are  far  from  our  army. 
Tell  my  two  good  companies  to  follow  us." 

The  minister,  after  repeating  the  order,  omitting  the 
implied  praise,  placed  himself  on  the  king's  right  hand, 
and  the  whole  escort  quitted  the  bastion,  now  confided 
to  the  care  of  the  Swiss,  and  returned  to  the  camp. 


THE   REWARD.  177 

The  two  red  companies  slowly  defiled  through  the 
breach  which  they  had  effected  with  such  promptitude ; 
their  countenances  were  grave  and  silent. 

Cinq-Mars  went  up  to  his  friend. 

"  These  are  heroes  but  ill  recompensed,"  said  he ; 
"  not  a  favor,  not  a  compliment." 

"  I,  on  the  other  hand,"  said  the  simple  De  Thou,  — 
"I,  who  came  somewhat  against  my  will, — receive  one. 
Such  are  courts,  such  is  life ;  but  the  true  Judge  is  on 
high,  whom  men  cannot  blind." 

"This  will  not  prevent  us  from  meeting  death  to- 
morrow, if  necessary,"  said  the  young  Olivier,  laughing. 


VOL.  I.  —  12 


*2^iM£»'* 


. 

..,*«<..   9. 
.  ..'"••      .Tr 


CHAPTER   XI. 

THE  MISTAKES. 

Quand  vint  le  tour  de  saint  Guilin, 
II  jeta  trois  des  sur  la  table. 
Ensuite  il  regarda  le  diable, 
Et  lui  dit  d'un  air  tres-malin : 
Jouons  doiic  cette  vieille  femme ! 
Qui  de  nous  deux  aura  son  ame ! 

Ancienne  Leqende. 

IN  order  to  appear  before  the  king,  Cinq-Mars  had  been 
fain  to  mount  the  charger  of  one  of  the  light-horse, 
wounded  in  the  affair,  having  lost  his  own  at  the  foot 
of  the  rampart.  As  the  two  companies  were  marching 
out,  he  felt  some  one  touch  his  shoulder,  and  turning 
round,  saw  old  Grandchamp  holding  a  very  beautiful 
gray  horse. 

"Will  M.  le  Marquis  mount  a  horse  of  his  own?" 
said  he.  "  I  have  put  on  the  saddle  and  housings  of 
velvet  embroidered  in  gold  that  remained  in  the  trench. 
Alas,  when  I  think  that  a  Spaniard  might  have  taken 
it,  or  even  a  Frenchman !  For  just  now  there  are  so 
many  people  who  take  all  they  find,  as  though  it  were 


THE  MISTAKES.  179 

their  own ;  and  then,  as  the  proverb  says, '  What  falls 
in  the  ditch  is  for  the  soldier.'  They  might  also  have 
taken  the  four  hundred  gold  crowns  that  M.  le  Marquis, 
be  it  said  without  reproach,  forgot  to  take  out  of  the 
holsters.  And  the  pistols !  Oh,  what  pistols !  I  bought 
them  in  Germany  ;  and  here  they  are  as  good,  and  with 
the  locks  as  perfect  as  ever.  It  was  quite  enough  to  kill 
the  poor  little  black  horse,  that  was  born  in  England 
as  sure  as  I  was  at  Tours  in  Touraine,  without  also 
exposing  these  valuables  to  pass  into  the  hands  of  the 
enemy." 

While  making  his  lamentation,  the  worthy  man  fin- 
ished saddling  the  gray  horse.  The  column  was  long 
enough  filing  out  to  give  him  time  to  pay  a  scrupulous 
attention  to  the  length  of  the  stirrups  and  of  the  bands, 
all  the  while  continuing  his  harangue. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  for  being  somewhat  long 
about  this ;  but  I  slightly  sprained  my  arm  in  getting 
up  M.  de  Thou,  who  himself  raised  M.  le  Marquis  during 
the  grand  scuffle." 

"  How  earnest  thou  there  at  all,  blockhead  ? "  said 
Cinq-Mars.  "  'T  is  not  thy  trade.  I  told  thee  to  remain 
in  the  camp." 

"  Oh,  as  to  remaining  in  the  camp,  that  is  out  of  the 
question.  I  can't  keep  there ;  when  I  hear  a  musket- 
shot,  I  should  be  ill  if  I  did  not  see  the  flash.  As  for 
my  trade,  my  trade  is  to  take  care  of  your  horses,  and 
you  are  on  them.  Sir,  think  you  I  should  not  have 
saved  the  life  of  the  poor  black  if  I  could  ?  Ah,  how  I 
loved  him,  a  horse  that  has  gained  three  races  in  his 
time,  —  a  time  too  short  for  those  who  loved  him  as  I 


180  CINQ-MARS. 

did !  He  would  never  take  his  corn  but  from  his  dear 
Grandchamp ;  and  then  he  would  caress  me  with  his 
head.  The  end  of  my  left  ear  that  he  carried  away  one 
day,  poor  fellow,  proves  it,  for  it  was  not  out  of  ill-will 
he  bit  it  off,  quite  the  contrary.  You  should  have  heard 
how  he  neighed  with  rage  when  any  one  else  came  near 
him ;  that  was  why  he  broke  Jean's  leg.  Good  creature, 
I  loved  him  so!  When  he  fell. I  held  him  on  one  side 
with  one  hand  and  M.  de  Locmaria  with  the  other.  1 
thought  at  first  that  both  he  and  that  gentleman  would 
recover ;  but  unhappily  only  one  of  them  returned  to 
life,  and  this  was  he  whom  I  least  knew.  You  seem  to 
be  laughing  at  what  I  say  about  your  horse,  sir;  you 
forget  that  in  times  of  war  the  horse  is  the  soul  of  the 
cavalier.  Yes,  sir,  his  soul ;  for  what  is  it  that  intimi- 
dates the  infantry  ?  'T  is  the  horse !  It  certainly  is  not 
the  man,  who,  once  seated,  is  little  more  than  a  bundle 
of  hay.  Who  is  it  that  performs  the  fine  deeds  that 
men  admire  ?  The  horse.  There  are  times  when  his 
master,  who  but  just  before  would  fain  have  been  far 
away,  finds  himself  victorious  and  rewarded  for  his 
horse's  valor,  while  the  poor  beast  gets  nothing  but 
blows.  Who  is  it  gains  the  prize  in  the  race  ?  The 
horse,  that  scarcely  sups  better  than  usual,  while  the 
master  pockets  the  gold,  and  is  envied  by  his  friends 
and  admired  by  all  the  lords  as  though  he  had  run  him- 
self. Who  is  ft  that  hunts  the  roebuck,  yet  puts  but  a 
morsel  in  his  own  mouth  ?  Again,  the  horse ;  sometimes 
the  horse  is  even  eaten  himself,  poor  animal !  I  remem- 
ber in  a  campaign  with  M.  le  Mare*chal,  it  happened 
that —  But  what  is  the  matter,  sir,  you  grow  pale  ?" 


THE  MISTAKES.  181 

"  Bind  up  my  leg  with  something,  —  a  handkerchief,  a 
strap,  or  what  thou  wilt.  I  feel  a  burning  pain  there  ;  I 
know  not  what." 

"  Your  boot  is  cut,  sir.  It  may  be  some  ball ;  however, 
lead  is  the  friend  of  man" 

"  It  is  no  friend  of  mine,  at  all  events." 

"Ah,  tvho  loves,  chastens!  Oh,  lead,  lead  must  not  be 
ill  spoken  of  !  What  is  that  — 

While  occupied  in  binding  his  master's  leg  below  the 
knee,  the  worthy  Grandchamp  was  about  to  hold  forth 
in  praise  of  lead  as  absurdly  as  he  had  done  in  praise 
of  the  horse,  when  he  was  fain,  in  common  with  Cinq- 
Mars,  to  lend  an  ear  to  a  warm  and  clamorous  dispute 
among  some  Swiss  soldiers  who  had  remained  behind 
the  other  troops.  They  were  talking  with  much  gestic- 
ulation, and  seemed  busied  with  two  men  who  were 
in  the  midst  of  about  thirty  soldiers. 

D'Effiat,  still  holding  out  his  leg  to  his  servant,  and 
leaning  on  the  saddle  of  his  horse,  tried,  by  listening 
attentively,  to  learn  the  subject  of  the  controversy  ;  but 
he  knew  nothing  of  German,  and  could  not  comprehend 
the  dispute.  Grandchamp,  who,  still  holding  the  boot, 
had  also  been  listening  very  seriously,  suddenly  burst 
into  loud  laughter. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!  sir,  here  are  two  sergeants  disputing 
which  they  ought  to  hang  of  the  two  Spaniards  there ; 
for  your  red  comrades  did  not  take  the  trouble  to  tell 
them.  One  of  the  Swiss  says  that  it 's  the  officer,  the 
other  that  it's  the  soldier;  a  third  has  just  made  a 
proposition  for  meeting  the  difficulty." 

"  And  what  says  he  ?  " 


182  CINQ-MARS. 

"  He  suggests 'the  hanging  them  both." 

"  Stop !  stop ! "  cried  Cinq-Mars  to  the  soldiers,  at- 
tempting to  walk ;  but  his  leg  would  not  support  him. 

"  Put  me  on  my  horse,  Grandchamp." 

"  You  forget,  sir,  your  wound." 

"  Do  as  I  bid  thee,  and  then  mount  thyself." 

The  old  servant  grumblingly  obeyed,  and  then  gal- 
loped off,  in  fulfilment  of  another  imperative  order,  to 
stop  the  Swiss,  who  were  on  the  point  of  hanging  their 
two  prisoners  to  a  tree,  or  rather  of  letting  them  hang 
themselves  ;  for  the  officer,  with  the  sang-froid  of  his 
nation,  had  himself  passed  the  running  noose  of  a  rope 
round  his  own  neck,  and  without  being  told,  had  as- 
cended a  small  ladder  placed  against  the  tree,  in  order 
to  tie  the  other  end  of  the  rope  to  one  of  its  branches. 
The  soldier,  with  the  same  indifferent  tranquillity,  was 
looking  on  at  the  Swiss  disputing  around  him,  while 
holding  the  ladder. 

Cinq-Mars  arrived  in  time  to  save  them,  gave  his 
name  to  the  Swiss  sergeant,  and  employing  Grandchamp 
as  interpreter,  said  that  the  two  prisoners  were  his,  and 
that  he  would  take  them  to  his  tent;  that  he  was  a 
captain  in  the  guards,  and  would  be  responsible  for 
them.  The  Germans,  ever  exact  in  discipline,  made  no 
reply ;  the  only  resistance  was  on  the  part  of  the  pris- 
oner. The  officer,  still  on  the  top  of  the  ladder,  turned 
round,  and  speaking  thence  as  from  a  pulpit,  said  with  a 
sardonic  laugh,—- 

"  I  should  much  like  to  know  what  you  do  here  ? 
Who  told  you  I  wanted  to  live  ? " 

"  I  don't  want  to  know  anything  about  that,"   said 


THE  MISTAKES.  183 

Cinq-Mars  ;  "  it  matters  not  to  me  what  becomes  of 
you  afterwards.  All  I  propose  now  is  to  prevent  an 
act  which  seenis  to  me  unjust  and  cruel.  You  are  quite 
welcome  to  kill  yourself  afterwards,  if  you  like." 

"  Well  said,"  returned  the  ferocious  Spaniard ;  "  you 
please  me.  I  thought  at  first  you  meant  to  affect  the 
generous  in  order  to  oblige  me  to  be  grateful,  which  is 
what  I  detest.  Well,  I  consent  to  come  down ;  but  I 
shall  hate  you  as  much  as  ever,  for  you  are  a  French- 
man. Nor  do  I  thank  you,  for  you  only  discharge  a  debt 
you  owe  me,  since  it  was  I  who  this  morning  kept  you 
from  being  shot  by  this  young  soldier  while  he  was 
taking  aim  at  you ;  and  he 's  a  man  who  never  missed 
a  chamois  in  the  mountains  of  Leon." 

"  Be  it  as  you  will,"  said  Cinq-Mars  ;  "  come  down." 

It  was  his  character  ever  to  assume  with  others  the 
mien  they  wore  towards  him ;  and  the  savage  ferocity 
of  the  Spaniard  made  him  hard  as  iron  towards  him. 

"  A  singularly  pleasant  person,  that,  sir,"  said  Grand- 
champ  ;  "  in  your  place  M.  le  Mardchal  would  certainly 
have  left  him  on  his  ladder.  Come,  Louis,  Etienne, 
Germain,  escort  Monsieur's  prisoners,  —  a  fine  acquisi- 
tion, truly  !  if  you  don't  regret  it  one  of  these  days,  I 
shall  be  very  much  surprised." 

Cinq-Mars,  suffering  from  the  motion  of  his  horse, 
rode  only  at  the  pace  of  his  prisoners  on  foot,  and  was 
accordingly  at  a  distance  behind  the  red  companies,  who 
followed  close  upon  the  king.  He  meditated  on  his  way 
what  it  could  be  that  the  prince  desired  to  say  to  him. 
A  ray  of  hope  presented  to  his  mind's  eye  the  figure  of 
Marie  de  Mantua  in  the  distance ;  and  for  a  moment  his 


184  CINQ-MARS. 

thoughts  were  tranquil.  But  all  his  future  lay  in  that 
brief  sentence,  —  "  please  the  king ; "  and  he  began  to 
reflect  upon  all  the  bitterness  in  which  this  task  might 
involve  him. 

Ere  long  he  saw  approaching  his  friend,  De  Thou, 
who,  anxious  at  his  remaining  behind,  had  sought  him 
in  the  plain,  eager  to  aid  him  if  necessary. 

"  'T  is  late,  my  friend  ;  night  approaches.  You  have 
been  long  on  your  way  ;  I  feared  for  you.  Whom  bring 
you  here  ?  What  has  detained  you  ?  The  king  will 
soon  be  asking  for  you." 

Such  were  the  rapid  inquiries  of  the  young  counsellor, 
whose  anxiety,  more  potent  herein  than  the  battle  itself, 
had  made  quit  his  accustomed  serenity. 

"  I  was  slightly  wounded  ;  I  bring  a  prisoner,  and  I 
was  thinking  of  the  king.  What  can  he  want  me  for, 
my  friend  ?  What  must  I  do  if  he  proposes  to  place  me 
about  his  person  ?  I  must  please  him ;  and  at  this 
thought  —  shall  I  own  it  ?  —  I  am  tempted  to  fly.  But  I 
trust  that  I  shall  not  have  that  fatal  honor.  '  To  please,' 
how  humiliating  the  word !  '  to  obey,'  how  much  more 
endurable !  A  soldier  runs  the  chance  of  death,  and 
there  's  an  end.  But  what  base  compliances,  what  sac- 
rifices of  himself,  what  compositions  with  his  conscience, 
what  degradation  of  his  own  thought,  may  not  a  courtier 
be  involved  in !  Ah,  De  Thou,  my  dear  De  Thou !  I 
am  not  made  for  the  court ;  I  feel  it,  though  I  have  seen 
it  but  for  a  moment.  There  is  in  my  temperament 
a  certain,  so  to  speak,  savageness,  which  education  has 
only  polished  on  the  surface.  At  a  distance,  I  thought 
myself  adapted  to  live  in  this  all-powerful  world  ;  I  even 


THE  MISTAKES.  185 

desired  it,  led  by  a  cherished  hope  of  my  heart.  But  I 
shuddered  at  the  first  step;  I  shuddered  at  the  mere 
aspect  of  the  cardinal.  The  recollection  of  the  last  of  his 
crimes,  at  which  I  was  present,  kept  me  from  addressing 
him.  He  horrified  me  ;  I  never  can  speak  to  him.  The 
king's  favor,  too,  has  that  about  it  which  dismays  me, 
as  though  I  knew  it  would  be  fatal  to  me." 

"  I  am  glad  to  perceive  this  apprehension  in  you  ;  it 
may  be  most  salutary,"  said  De  Thou,  as  they  rode  on. 
"  You  are  about  to  enter  into  contact  with  power.  Be- 
fore, you  did  not  even  conceive  it ;  now  you  will  touch 
it  with  your  very  hand.  You  will  see  what  it  is,  and 
what  it  is  hurls  the  lightning.  Heaven  grant  that  light- 
ning may  never  strike  you !  You  will  probably  be 
present  in  those  councils  which  regulate  the  destiny  of 
nations ;  you  will  see,  you  will  perchance  originate,  those 
caprices  whence  are  born  sanguinary  wars,  conquests, 
and  treaties  ;  you  will  hold  in  your  hand  the  drop  of 
water  that  proves  the  source  of  mighty  torrents.  It  is 
from  the  high  places  of  the  world  that  men  justly  view 
human  affairs ;  you  must  look  from  the  mountain-top 
ere  you  can  appreciate  the  littleness  of  those  things 
which  from  below  appear  to  us  great." 

"  Ay,  if  I  were  on  those  heights,  I  should  at  least  have 
the  lesson  you  speak  of ;  but  this  cardinal,  this  man  to 
whom  I  must  be  under  an  obligation,  this  man  whom  I 
know  too  well  by  his  works,  —  what  will  he  be  to  me  ?  " 

"  A  friend,  a  protector,  no  doubt,"  answered  De  Thou. 

"  Death  were  a  thousand  times  preferable  to  his  friend- 
ship !  I  hate  his  whole  being,  his  very  name  ;  he  spills 
the  blood  of  men  with  the  cross  of  the  Redeemer." 


186  CINQ-MARS. 

"  What  horrors  are  you  saying,  my  friend  ?  You  will 
ruin  yourself  if  you  exhibit  your  sentiments  respecting 
the  cardinal  to  the  king." 

"  Never  mind  ;  in  the  midst  of  these  tortuous  ways,  I 
desire  to  take  a  new  one,  the  right  line.  My  whole  opin- 
ion, the  opinion  of  a  just  man,  shall  be  unveiled  to  the 
king  himself,  if  he  interrogate  me,  even  should  it  cost 
me  my  head.  I  have  at  last  seen  this  king,  who  has 
been  described  as  so  weak  to  me ;  I  have  seen  him,  and 
his  aspect  has  touched  me  to  the  heart  in  spite  of  my- 
self. Certainly,  he  is  very  unfortunate,  but  he  cannot 
be  cruel ;  he  will  listen  to  the  truth." 

"  Yes ;  but  he  will  not  dare  to  make  it  triumph,"  an- 
swered the  sage  De  Thou.  "  Beware  of  this  warmth  of 
heart,  which  often  draws  you  by  sudden  and  dangerous 
movements.  Do  not  attack  a  colossus  like  Richelieu 
without  having  measured  him." 

"  That  is  just  like  my  tutor,  the  Abb£  Quillet.  My 
dear  and  prudent  friend,  neither  one  nor  the  other  of 
you  know  me ;  you  do  not  know  how  weary  I  am  of  my- 
self, and  whither  I  have  cast  my  gaze.  I  must  mount 
or  die." 

"  What !  already  ambitious  ?  "  exclaimed  De  Thou, 
with  an  extreme  surprise. 

His  friend  inclined  his  head  upon  his  hands, 
abandoning  the  reins  of  his  horse,  and  did  not 
answer. 

"  What !  has  this  selfish  passion  of  a  riper  age  ob- 
tained possession  of  you  at  twenty,  Henri  ?  Ambition 
is  the  most  sorrowful  of  hopes." 

"  And  nevertheless,  it  possesses  me  entirely  at  pres- 


THE  MISTAKES.  187 

ent,  for  I  see  but  by  it,  and  by  it  my  whole  heart  is 
penetrated." 

"Ah,  Cinq-Mars,  I  no  longer  recognize  you!  how 
different  you  were  formerly  !  I  do  not  conceal  from  you 
that  you  appear  to  me  to  have  much  deteriorated.  In 
those  walks  of  our  childhood,  when  the  life,  and,  above 
all,  the  death  of  Socrates,  caused  tears  of  admiration 
and  envy  to  run  from  our  eyes ;  when,  raising  ourselves 
to  the  ideal  of  the  highest  virtue,  we  wished  that  those 
illustrious  sorrows,  those  sublime  misfortunes,  which 
create  great  men,  might  in  the  future  come  upon  us; 
when  we  constructed  for  ourselves  imaginary  occasions 
of  sacrifices  and  devotion,  —  if  the  voice  of  a  man  had 
pronounced,  between  us  two,  the*  single  word,  '  ambi- 
tion,' we  should  have  believed  that  we  were  touching  a 
serpent." 

De  Thou  spoke  with  the  heat  of  enthusiasm  and  of 
reproach.  Cinq-Mars  went  on  without  answering,  and 
with  his  face  in  his  hands.  After  an  instant  of  silence 
he  removed  them,  and  allowed  his  eyes  to  be  seen,  full 
of  generous  tears.  He  strongly  pressed  the  hand  of  his 
friend,  and  said  to  him  with  a  penetrating  accent, — 

"  M.  de  Thou,  you  have  recalled  to  me  the  most  beau- 
tiful thoughts  of  my  earliest  youth.  Believe  that  I  have 
not  fallen  ;  I  am  consumed  by  a  secret  hope  which  I  can- 
not confide  even  to  you.  I  despise,  as  much  as  you,  the 
ambition  which  will  seem  to  possess  me.  All  the  world 
will  believe  it ;  but  what  do  I  care  for  the  world  ?  As  for 
you,  my  noble  friend,  promise  me  that  you  will  not  cease 
to  esteem  me,  whatever  you  may  see  me  do.  I  swear  by 
heaven  that  my  thoughts  are  pure  as  it!" 


188  CINQ-MARS. 

"  Well,"  said  De  Thou,  "  I  swear  by  it  that  I  believe 
you  blindly ;  you  give  me  back  my  life  ! " 

They  shook  hands  again  with  effusion  of  heart,  and 
then  perceived  that  they  were  arrived  almost  before  the 
tent  of  the  king. 

Day  was  nearly  over ;  but  one  might  have  believed 
that  a  softer  day  was  rising,  for  the  moon  issued  from 
the  sea  in  all  her  splendor.  The  transparent  sky  of  the 
south  was  not  charged  with  a  single  cloud,  and  it  seemed 
like  a  veil  of  pale  blue  sprinkled  with  silver  spangles ; 
the  air,  still  inflamed,  was  agitated  only  by  the  rare  pas- 
sage of  some  breezes  from  the  Mediterranean ;  and  all 
sounds  had  ceased  upon  the  earth.  The  fatigued  army 
reposed  beneath  their  tents,  the  line  of  which  was 
marked  by  the  fires,  and  the  besieged  city  seemed  op- 
pressed by  the  same  slumber ;  upon  its  ramparts  noth- 
ing was  to  be  seen  but  the  arms  of  the  sentinels,  which 
shone  in  the  rays  of  the  moon,  or  the  wandering  fire 
of  the  night-rounds.  Nothing  was  to  be  heard  but  the 
gloomy  and  prolonged  cries  of  its  guards,  who  warned 
each  other  not  to  sleep. 

It  was  only  around  the  king  that  all  things  waked, 
but  at  a  great  distance  from  him.  This  prince  had  dis- 
missed all  his  suite ;  he  walked  alone  before  his  tent, 
and  stopping  sometimes  to  contemplate  the  beauty  of 
the  heavens,  he  appeared  plunged  in  a  melancholy  medi- 
tation. No  one  dared  to  interrupt  him ;  and  those  of 
the  nobility  who  had  remained  in  the  royal  quarters  had 
gathered  about  the  cardinal,  who,  at  twenty  paces  from 
the  king,  was  seated  upon  a  little  hillock  of  turf,  fash- 
ioned into  a  seat  by  the  soldiers.  There  he  wiped  his 


THE  MISTAKES.  189 

pale  forehead,  fatigued  with  the  cares  of  the  day  and 
with  the  unaccustomed  weight  of  a  suit  of  armor;  he 
bade  adieu  in  a  few  hurried  but  always  attentive  and 
polite  words  to  those  who  came  to  salute  him  as  they 
retired.  He  had  now  no  one  near  except  Joseph,  who  was 
talking  with  Laubardemont.  The  cardinal  was  looking 
at  the  king,  to  see  if,  before  re-entering,  this  prince 
would  not  speak  to  him,  when  the  sound  of  the  horses 
of  Cinq-Mars  was  heard.  The  guards  of  the  cardinal 
questioned  him,  and  allowed  him  to  advance  without 
followers,  and  only  with  De  Thou. 

"  You  are  come  too  late,  young  man,  to  speak  with 
the  king,"  said  the  cardinal-due,  with  a  sharp  voice. 
"  One  cannot  make  his  Majesty  wait." 

The  two  friends  were  going  to  retire,  when  the  voice 
of  Louis  XIII.  himself  made  itself  heard.  This  prince 
was  at  that  moment  in  one  of  those  false  positions  which 
constituted  the  misfortune  of  his  entire  life.  Profoundly 
irritated  against  his  minister,  but  not  concealing  from 
himself  that  he  owed  the  success  of  the  day  to  him, 
desiring,  moreover,  to  announce  to  him  his  intention  to 
quit  the  army  and  to  raise  the  siege  of  Perpignan,  he  was 
tossed  between  the  desire  of  speaking  to  the  cardinal 
and  the  fear  lest  his  anger  might  be  weakened.  The 
minister,  upon  his  part,  dared  not  be  the  first  to  speak, 
being  uncertain  as  to  the  thoughts  which  occupied  the 
head  of  his  master,  and  fearing  to  choose  his  time  ill, 
but  yet  not  able  to  decide  upon  retiring.  Both  found 
themselves  precisely  in  the  position  of  two  lovers  who 
had  quarrelled  and  desired  to  have  an  explanation,  when 
the  king  seized  with  joy  the  first  opportunity  of  extri- 


190  CINQ-MARS. 

eating  himself.  The  chance  was  fatal  to  the  minister. 
See  upon  what  trifles  depend  those  destinies  which  are 
called  great ! 

"  Is  it  not  M.  de  Cinq-Mars  ?  "  said  the  king,  in  a  loud 
voice.  "  Let  him  approach  ;  I  am  waiting  for  him." 

Young  D'Effiat  approached  on  horseback,  and  at  some 
paces  from  the  king  desired  to  set  foot  to  earth ;  but 
scarcely  had  his  leg  touched  the  ground  than  he  dropped 
upon  his  knees. 

"  Pardon,  Sire ! "  said  he,  "  I  believe  that  I  am 
wounded ; "  and  the  blood  issued  violently  from  his 
boot. 

De  Thou  had  seen  him  fall,  and  had  approached  to 
sustain  him.  Richelieu  seized  this  opportunity  of  also 
advancing  with  dissembled  eagerness. 

"  Remove  this  spectacle  from  the  eyes  of  the  king," 
said  he.  "  You  see  very  well  that  this  young  man  is 
dying." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Louis,  himself  supporting  him  ;  "  a 
king  of  France  knows  how  to  see  a  man  die,  and  has 
no  fear  of  the  blood  which  flows  for  him.  This  young 
man  interests  me.  Let  him  be  carried  into  my  tent, 
and  let  him  have  doctors  with  him.  If  his  wound  is  not 
serious,  he  shall  come  with  me  to  Paris,  for  the  siege 
is  suspended,  M.  le  Cardinal.  Such  is  my  desire ;  other 
affairs  call  me  to  the  centre  of  the  kingdom.  I  will 
leave  you  here  to  command  in  my  absence.  This  is 
what  I  desired  to  say  to  you." 

With  these  words  the  king  went  abruptly  into  his 
tent,  preceded  by  his  pages  and  his  officers,  carrying 
flambeaux. 


THE  MISTAKES.  191 

The  royal  pavilion  was  closed,  and  Cinq-Mars  borne 
in  by  De  Thou  and  his  people,  while  the  Due  de 
Richelieu,  motionless  and  stupefied,  still  regarded  the 
spot  where  this  scene  had  passed.  He  appeared  thun- 
derstruck, and  incapable  of  seeing  or  hearing  those  who 
observed  him. 

Laubardemont,  still  intimidated  by  his  ill  reception  of 
the  preceding  day,  dared  not  speak  a  word  to  him,  and 
Joseph  hardly  recognized  in  him  his  former  master.  For 
an  instant  he  regretted  having  given  himself  to  him, 
and  fancied  that  his  star  was  waning ;  but  reflecting 
that  he  was  hated  by  all  men  and  had  no  resource  save 
in  Richelieu,  he  seized  him  by  the  arm,  and  shaking  him 
roughly,  said  to  him  in  a  low  voice,  but  with  asperity, — 

"  Come,  come,  Monseigneur,  you  are  chicken-hearted  ; 
come  with  us." 

And  seeming  to  sustain  him  by  the  elbow,  but  in  fact 
drawing  him  in  spite  of  himself,  with  the  aid  of  Lau- 
bardemont, he  made  him  enter  his  tent,  as  a  school- 
master forces  a  schoolboy  to  rest,  fearing  the  effects 
of  the  evening  mist  upon  him. 

The  prematurely  aged  man  slowly  obeyed  the  wishes 
of  his  two  parasites,  and  the  purple  of  the  pavilion 
dropped  upon  him. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE   NIGHT-WATCH. 

0  coward  conscience,  how  dost  thou  afflict  me ! 
The  lights  burn  blue.     Is  it  not  dead  midnight  ? 
Cold,  fearful  drops  stand  on  my  trembling  flesh. 
What  do  I  fear  ?     Myself  ? 

1  love  myself !  SHAKSPEARE. 

SCARCELY  was  the  cardinal  in  his  tent  before  he  dropped, 
armed  and  cuirassed,  into  a  great  armchair ;  and  there, 
holding  his  handkerchief  to  his  mouth  with  a  fixed  look, 
he  remained  in  this  attitude,  letting  his  two  dark  con- 
fidants wonder  whether  contemplation  or  annihilation 
maintained  him  in  it.  He  was  deadly  pale,  and  a  cold 
sweat  streamed  upon  his  brow.  In  wiping  it,  with  a 
sudden  movement  he  threw  behind  him  his  red  cap,  the 
only  ecclesiastical  sign  which  remained  upon  him,  and 
dropped  again  with  his  mouth  upon  his  hands.  The 
Capuchin  on  one  side,  and  the  sombre  magistrate  on  the 
other,  considered  him  in  silence,  and  seemed  with  their 
brown  and  black  costumes  like  the  priest  and  the  notary 
of  a  dying  man. 


THE  NIGHT-WATCH,  193 

The  friar,  drawing  from  the  depth  of  his  chest  a  voice 
which  seemed  better  suited  to  repeat  the  service  of  the 
dead  than  to  administer  consolation,  spoke  first,  — 

"  If  Monseigneur  will  please  to  recall  my  counsels 
given  at  Narbonne,  he  will  confess  that  I  had  a  just 
presentiment  of  the  troubles  which  this  young  man 
would  one  day  cause  him.  ' 

The  magistrate  continued,  — 

"I  have  learned  from  the  old  deaf  abbe*  who  dined 
at  the  house  of  the  Mare'chale  d'Effiat,  and  who  heard 
all,  that  this  young  Cinq-Mars  exhibited  more  energy 
than  one  would  have  imagined,  and  that  he  attempted 
to  rescue  the  Marshal  de  Bassompierre.  I  have  still 
by  me  the  detailed  report  of  the  deaf  man,  who  played 
his  part  very  well.  His  Eminence  the  Cardinal  must 
be  sufficiently  convinced  by  it." 

"I  have  told  Monseigneur,"  recommenced  Joseph,— 
for  these  two  ferocious  Seyds  alternated  their  discourse 
like  the  shepherds  of  Virgil,  —  "I  have  told  him  that  it 
would  be  well  to  get  rid  of  this  young  D'Effiat,  and  that 
I  would  charge  myself  with  the  business,  if  such  were 
his  good  pleasure.  It  would  be  easy  to  destroy  him  in 
the  opinion  of  the  king." 

"  It  would  be  safer  to  make  him  die  of  his  wound," 
answered  Laubardemont ;  "  if  his  Eminence  would  have 
the  goodness  to  command  me,  I  know  intimately  the 
assistant-physician,  who  has  cured  me  of  a  blow  on  the 
forehead,  and  is  now  attending  to  him.  He  is  a  prudent 
man,  who  is  quite  devoted  to  Monseigneur  the  Cardinal- 
Due,  and  whose  affairs  have  been  somewhat  embarrassed 
by  gambling." 

VOL.  I.  —  13 


194  CINQ-MARS. 

"  I  believe,"  replied  Joseph,  with  an  air  of  modesty, 
mingled  with  a  little  bitterness,  "  that  if  his  Excellency 
proposed  to  employ  any  one  in  this  useful  project,  it 
would  be  rather  his  accustomed  negotiator,  who  has  had 
some  success  on  past  occasions." 

"  I  fancy  that  I  could  enumerate  some  signal  in- 
stances," answered  Laubardemont,  "  and  very  recent 
ones,  of  which  the  difficulty  was  great." 

"  Ah,  no  doubt,"  said  the  father,  with  a  bow  and  an 
air  of  consideration  and  politeness,  "your  most  bold 
and  skilfully  executed  commission  was  the  trial  of 
Urbain  Grandier,  the  magician.  But  with  Heaven's 
assistance  one  may  be  enabled  to  execute  things  as 
excellent  and  bold.  It  is  not  quite  without  merit,  for 
instance,"  added  he,  dropping  his  eyes  like  a  young 
girl,  "  to  have  vigorously  extirpated  a  royal  Bourbon 
branch." 

"It  was  not  very  difficult,"  answered  the  magistrate, 
with  bitterness,  "  to  select  a  soldier  from  the  guards  to 
kill  the  Comte  de  Soissons ;  but  to  preside,  judge  —  " 

"And  execute  one's  self,"  interrupted  the  heated 
Capuchin,  "  is  certainly  less  difficult  than  to  educate  a 
man  from  infancy  in  the  thought  of  accomplishing  great 
things  with  discretion,  and  to  bear  all  tortures,  if  neces- 
sary, for  the  love  of  Heaven,  rather  than  reveal  the  name 
of  those  who  have  armed  him  with  their  justice,  or  to 
die  courageously  upon  the  body  of  him  that  he  has 
struck,  as  did  one  who  was  commissioned  by  me.  He 
uttered  no  cry  at  the  blow  of  the  sword  of  Riquemont, 
the  squire  of  the  prince.  He  died  like  a  saint ;  he  was 
my  pupil." 


THE  NIGHT-WATCH.  195 

'  "  To  give  orders  is  a  different  thing  from  running 
risk  one's  self." 

"  And  did  I  risk  nothing  at  the  siege  of  Rochelle  ? " 

"  Of  being  drowned  in  a  sewer,  no  doubt,"  said 
Laubardemont. 

"  And  you,"  said  Joseph,  "  has  your  danger  been 
that  of  catching  your  fingers  in  instruments  of  tor- 
ture ?  And  all  this  because  the  abbess  of  the  Ursulines 
is  your  niece." 

"  It  was  a  good  thing  for  your  brothers  of  Saint 
Francis,  who  held  the  hammers ;  but  I,  —  I  was  struck 
in  the  forehead  by  this  same  Cinq-Mars,  who  was  lead- 
ing an  enraged  multitude." 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  of  that  ? "  cried  Joseph,  de- 
lighted. "  Did  he  dare  to  act  thus  against  the  com- 
mands of  the  king  ? "  The  joy  which  this  discovery 
gave  him  made  him  forget  his  anger. 

"  Fools  !  "  exclaimed  the  cardinal,  suddenly  breaking 
silence,  and  taking  from  his  lips  his  handkerchief 
stained  with  blood.  "  I  would  punish  your  miserable 
dispute  had  it  not  taught  me  many  secrets  of  infamy  on 
your  part.  You  have  exceeded  my  orders ;  I  commanded 
no  torture,  Laubardemont.  That  is  your  second  fault. 
You  get  me  hated  for  nothing ;  that  was  useless.  But 
you,  Joseph,  do  not  neglect  the  details  of  this  disturb- 
ance in  which  Cinq-Mars  was  engaged ;  it  may  be  of  use 
in  the  end." 

"I  have  all  the  names  and  descriptions,"  said  the 
secret  judge,  eagerly,  bending  his  tall  form  and1  thin 
and  olive-colored  visage,  wrinkled  with  a  servile  smile, 
down  to  the  armchair. 


190  CINQ-MARS. 

"  It  is  well !  it  is  well ! "  said  the  minister,  pushing 
him  back ;  "  but  that  is  not  the  question  yet.  You, 
Joseph,  be  in  Paris  before  this  young  upstart,  who  will 
be  favorite,  I  am  certain.  Become  his  friend ;  make  him 
of  my  party  or  destroy  him.  Let  him  serve  me  or  fall. 
But,  above  all,  send  me  every  day  safe  persons  to  give 
me  verbal  accounts.  I  will  have  no  more  writing  for 
the  future.  I  am  very  ill  satisfied  with  you,  Joseph. 
What  a  miserable  courier  you  chose  to  send  from 
Cologne !  He  could  not  understand  me.  He  saw  the 
king  too  soon,  and  here  we  are  still  in  disgrace  in  con- 
sequence. You  have  just  missed  losing  me  entirely. 
Go  and  watch  what  is  about  to  be  done  at  Paris.  A 
conspiracy  will  soon  be  hatched  against  me ;  but  it  will 
be  the  last.  I  remain  here  in  order  to  let  them  all  act 
more  freely.  Go,  both  of  you,  and  send  me  my  valet 
after  the  lapse  of  two  hours ;  I  wish  to  be  alone." 

The  steps  of  these  two  men  were  still  to  be  heard  as 
Richelieu,  with  eyes  fixed  upon  the  entrance  to  the  tent, 
seemed  to  pursue  them  with  his  irritated  looks. 

"  Wretches  ! "  exclaimed  he,  when  he  was  alone,  "  go 
and  accomplish  some  more  secret  work,  and  afterwards 
I  will  crush  yourselves,  impure  instruments  of  my  power. 
The  king  will  soon  succumb  beneath  the  slow  malady 
which  consumes  him.  I  shall  then  be  regent;  I  shall 
be  King  of  France  myself  ;  I  shall  no  longer  have  to 
dread  the  caprices  of  his  weakness.  I  will  destroy  the 
haughty  races  of  this  country.  I  will  be  alone  above 
them  all.  Europe  shall  tremble.  I  —  " 

Here  the  blood,  which  filled  his  mouth,  obliged  him 
to  apply  his  handkerchief  to  it  again. 


THE  NIGHT-WATCH.  197 

"  Ah,  what  do  I  say  ?  Unhappy  victim  that  I  am  ! 
Here  am  I,  death-stricken  !  My  dissolution  is  near ; 
my  blood  flows,  and  my  spirit  desires  to  labor  still. 
Why  ?  For  whom  ?  Is  it  for  glory  ?  'T  is  an  empty 
word.  Is  it  for  men  ?  I  despise  them.  For  whom,  then, 
since  I  shall  die,  perhaps,  in  two  or  three  years  ?  Is 
it  for  God  ?  What  a  name  !  I  have  not  walked  with 
him  !  He  has  seen  all  — 

Here  he  let  his  head  fall  upon  his  breast,  and  his  eyes 
met  the  great  cross  of  gold  which  was  suspended  from 
his  neck.  He  could  not  help  throwing  himself  back  in 
his  chair  ;  but  it  followed  him.  He  took  it ;  and  con- 
sidering it  with  fixed  and  devouring  looks,  he  said  in 
a  low  voice,  — 

"  Terrible  sign  !  thou  followest  me  !  Shall  I  find  thee 
elsewhere, — divinity  and  suffering  ?  What  am  I  ?  What 
have  I  done  ?  " 

For  the  first  time  a  singular  and  unknown  terror 
penetrated  him.  He  trembled,  at  once  frozen  and 
scorched  by  an  invincible  shudder.  He  dared  not  lift 
his  eyes,  fearing  to  meet  some  terrible  vision.  He 
dared  not  call,  fearing  to  hear  the  sound  of  his  own 
voice.  He  remained  profoundly  plunged  in  the  contem- 
plation of  eternity,  so  terrible  for  him,  and  he  mur- 
mured the  following  kind  of  prayer :  — 

"  Great  God,  if  you  hear  me,  judge  me  then,  but  do 
not  isolate  me  in  judging  me !  Look  upon  me  sur- 
rounded by  the  men  of  my  generation  ;  consider  the 
enormous  work  which  I  had  undertaken !  Was  not  an 
enormous  lever  wanted  to  bestir  those  masses ;  and  if 
this  lever  in  falling  crushes  some  useless  wretches,  am 


198  CINQ-MARS. 

I  very  culpable  ?  I  seem  wicked  to  men ;  but  thou,  Su- 
preme Judge,  dost  thou  regard  me  thus  ?  No ;  thou 
knowest  that  it  is  boundless  power  which  makes  crea- 
ture culpable  against  creature.  It  is  not  Armand  de 
Richelieu  who  destroys ;  it  is  the  prime  minister.  It  is 
not  for  his  personal  injuries;  it  is  to  carry  out  a  system. 
But  a  system  —  what  is  this  word  ?  Is  it  permitted  me 
to  play  thus  with  men,  to  regard  them  as  numbers  for 
working  out  a  thought,  which  perhaps  is  false  ?  I  over- 
turn the  framework  of  the  throne.  What  if,  without 
knowing  it,  I  sap  its  foundations  and  hasten  its  fall ! 
Yes,  my  borrowed  power  has  seduced  me.  O  labyrinth  ! 

0  weakness  of  human  thought !     Simple  faith,  why  did 

1  quit  thy  path  ?    Why  am  I  not  a  simple  priest  ?    If  I 
dared  to  break  with  man  and  give  myself  to  God,  the 
ladder  of  Jacob  would  again  descend  in  my  dreams." 

At  this  moment  his  ear  was  struck  by  a  great  noise 
outside,  —  laughter  of  soldiers,  ferocious  shouts  and 
oaths,  mingled  with  words  which  were  a  long  time  sus- 
tained by  a  weak  and  clear  voice ;  one  would  have  said 
that  it  was  the  voice  of  an  angel  interrupted  by  the 
laughter  of  demons.  He  rose  and  opened  a  sort  of 
linen  window,  worked  in  the  sides  of  his  square  tent. 
A  singular  spectacle  presented  itself  to  his  view ;  he 
remained  some  instants  contemplating  it,  attentive  to 
the  conversation  which  was  going  on. 

"  Listen,  listen,  La  Valeur ! "  said  one  soldier  to  an- 
other. "  See,  she  begins  again  to  speak  and  to  sing ! 
Set  her  in  the  middle  of  the  circle  between  us  and 
the  fire." 

"  Don't  you  know  her  ?     Don't  you  know  her  ?  "  said 


THE  NIGHT-WATCH.  199 

another.  "  Here  is  Grand-Ferrd,  who  says  that  he  knows 
her." 

"  Yes,  I  tell  you  I  know  her ;  and,  by  Saint  Peter 
of  Loudun,  I  will  swear  that  I  have  seen  her  in  my 
village,  when  I  had  leave  of  absence ;  and  it  was  upon 
an  occasion  at  which  one  shuddered,  but  concerning 
which  one  dares  not  talk,  especially  to  a  Cardinalist 
like  you." 

"  Eh !  and  pray  why  dare  not  one  speak  of  it, 
you  great  simpleton  ? "  said  an  old  soldier,  raising  his 
mustache. 

"  It  is  not  spoken  of  because  it  burns  the  tongue.  Do 
you  understand  that  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  understand  it." 

"  Well,  nor  I  neither ;  but  they  were  citizens  who  told 
it  to  me." 

Here  a  general  laugh  interrupted  him. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha !  is  he  a  fool  ? "  said  one.  "  He  listens 
to  what  the  townsfolk  tell  him." 

"  Ah,  well !  if  yoti  listen  to  their  jabber,  you  have 
time  to  lose,"  said  another. 

"You  do  not  know,  then,  what  my  mother  said, 
greenhorn  ? "  said  the  eldest,  gravely  dropping  his  eyes 
with  a  solemn  air,  to  get  himself  listened  to. 

"  Eh  !  how  can  you  think  that  I  know  it,  La  Pipe  ? 
Your  mother  must  have  died  of  old  age  before  my 
grandfather  came  into  the  world." 

"  Well,  greenhorn,  I  will  tell  you  !  You  shall  know, 
first  of  all,  that  my  mother  was  a  Respectable  Bohe- 
mian, as  much  attached  to  the  regiment  of  carabineers  of 
La  Roque  as  my  dog  Canon  there.  She  carried  brandy 


200  CINQ-MARS. 

round  her  neck  in  a  barrel,  and  drank  better  than  the 
best  of  us.  She  had  fourteen  husbands,  all  soldiers, 
who  died  upon  the  field  of  battle." 

"  Ha !  that  was  a  woman !  "  interrupted  the  soldiers, 
full  of  respect. 

"  And  never  once  in  her  life  did  she  speak  to  a  towns- 
man, unless  it  was  to  tell  him  on  coming  to  her  lodging, 
'  Light  my  candle,  and  warm  my  soup.'  " 

"  Well,  and  what  is  that  your  mother  said  to  you  ?  " 

"  If  you  are  in  such  a  hurry,  you  shall  not  know, 
greenhorn.  She  said  habitually  in  her  talk, '  A  soldier 
is  better  than  a  dog ;  but  a  dog  is  better  than  a 
bourgeois?  " 

"  Bravo !  bravo  !  that  was  well  said !  "  cried  the 
soldier,  filled  with  enthusiasm  at  these  fine  words. 

"  That,"  said  Grand-Ferre*,  "  does  not  prove  that  the 
citizens  who  made  the  remark  to  me  that  it  burned 
the  tongue  were  unreasonable ;  besides,  they  were  not 
altogether  citizens,  for  they  had  swords,  and  they  were 
grieved  at  a  cure*  being  burned,  and  so  was  I." 

"  Eh !  what  was  it  to  you  that  they  burned  your  cure*, 
great  simpleton  ? "  said  a  sergeant,  leaning  upon  the 
fork  of  his  arquebuse ;  "  after  him  another  would  come. 
You  might  have  taken  one  of  our  generals  in  his  stead, 
who  are  all  cure's  at  present ;  for  me,  I  am  a  Royalist, 
and  I  say  it  frankly." 

"  Hold  your  tongue  !  "  cried  La  Pipe  ;  "  let  this  girl 
speak.  It  is  these  dogs  of  Royalists  who  always  disturb 
us  in  our  amusements." 

"  What  do  you  say  ? "  answered  Grand-Ferre*.  "  Do 
you  even  know  what  it  is  to  be  a  Royalist  ? " 


THE  NIGHT-WATCH.  201 

"  Yes,"  said  La  Pipe ;  "  I  know  you  all  very  well. 
Go,  you  are  for  the  old  self-called  princes  of  the  peace, 
together  with  the  wranglers  against  the  cardinal  and 
the  gabelle;  there,  am  I  right  or  not?" 

"  No,  old  red-legs.  A  Royalist  is  one  who  is  for  the 
king;  that's  what  it  is.  And  as  my  father  was  the 
king's  valet,  I  am  for  the  king,  you  see ;  and  I  have 
no  liking  for  the  red-legs,  that's  flat." 

"  Ah,  do  you  call  me  red-legs  ? "  answered  the  old 
soldier.  "You  shall  give  me  satisfaction  to-morrow 
morning.  If  you  had  made  war  in  the  Valteline,  you 
would  not  talk  in  that  style  ;  and  if  you  had  seen  his 
Eminence  marching  upon  the  dike  at  Rochelle,  with  the 
old  Marquis  de  Spinola,  while  volleys  of  cannon-shot 
were  sent  after  him,  you  would  have  nothing  to  say 
about  red-legs." 

"  Come,  let  us  amuse  ourselves  instead  of  quarrelling," 
said  the  other  soldiers. 

The  men  who  conversed  thus  were  standing  round  a 
great  fire,  which  illuminated  them  more  than  the  moon, 
beautiful  as  it  was ;  and  in  the  middle  of  them  was  the 
object  of  their  gathering  together  and  their  cries.  The 
cardinal  perceived  a  young  woman  arrayed  in  black  and 
covered  with  a  long  white  veil.  Her  feet  were  naked ;  a 
thick  cord  clasped  her  elegant  person;  a  long  rosary  fell 
from  her  neck  almost  to  her  feet;  her  hands,  delicate 
and  white  as  ivory,  turned  its  beads  and  made  them 
pass  rapidly  beneath  her  fingers.  The  soldiers  with  a 
barbarous  joy  amused  themselves  with  laying  little 
brands  in  her  way  to  burn  her  naked  feet.  The 
oldest  took  the  smoking  match  of  his  arquebuse,  and 


202  CINQ-MARS. 

approaching  it  to  the  edge  of  her  robe,  said  in  a  hoarse 
voice,  — 

"  Come,  madcap,  tell  me  your  history,  or  I  will  fill  you 
with  powder  and  blow  you  up  like  a  mine ;  take  care, 
for  I  have  already  played  that  trick  to  others  besides 
you,  in  the  old  wars  of  the  Huguenots.  Come,  sing." 

The  young  woman,  looking  at  him  gravely,  replied 
nothing,  and  let  down  her  veil. 

"  You  don't  manage  her  well,"  said  Grand-Ferre",  with 
a  drunken  laugh ;  "  you  will  make  her  cry.  You  don't 
know  the  fine  language  of  the  court ;  let  me  speak  to 
her."  And  touching  her  on  the  chin,  "  My  little  heart," 
he  said,  "  if  you  will  please,  my  sweet,  to  recommence 
the  little  story  you  told  just  now  to  these  gentlemen, 
I  will  pray  you  to  travel  with  me  upon  the  river  Du 
Tendre,  as  the  great  ladies  of  Paris  say,  and  to  take  a 
glass  of  brandy  with  your  faithful  chevalier,  who  met 
you  formerly  at  Loudun,  when  you  played  a  comedy  in 
order  to  burn  a  poor  devil." 

The  young  woman  crossed  her  arms,  and  looking 
around  her  with  an  imperious  air,  cried, — 

"  Withdraw,  in  the  name  of  the  God  of  armies ;  with- 
draw, impious  men  !  There  is  nothing  in  common  be- 
tween us.  I  do  not  understand  your  tongue,  nor  you 
mine.  Go,  sell  your  blood  to  the  princes  of  the  earth  at 
so  many  oboles  a  day,  and  leave  me  to  accomplish  my 
mission!  Conduct  me  to  the  cardinal." 

A  coarse  laugh  interrupted  her. 

"  Do  you  think,"  said  a  carabineer  of  Maurevert, "  that 
his  Eminence  the  Generalissimo  will  receive  you  with 
vour  feet  naked  ?  Go  and  wash  them." 


THE  NIGHT-WATCH.  203 

"The  Lord  has  said,  'Jerusalem,  lift  thy  robe,  and 
pass  the  rivers  of  water,' "  answered  she,  her  arms  still 
crossed.  "Let  me  be  conducted  to  the  cardinal." 

Richelieu  cried  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Bring  the  woman  to 
me,  and  let  her  alone ! " 

All  were  silent ;  they  conducted  her  to  the  minister. 

"  Why,"  said  she,  beholding  him,  —  "  why  bring  me 
before  an  armed  man  ?  " 

They  left  her  alone  with  him  without  answering. 

The  cardinal  looked  at  her  with  a  suspicious  air. 
"  Madame,"  said  he,  "  what  are  you  doing  in  the  camp 
at  this  hour?  And  if  your  mind  is  not  disordered,  why 
these  naked  feet  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  vow ;  it  is  a  vow,"  answered  the  young 
woman,  with  an  air  of  impatience,  seating  herself 
beside  him  abruptly.  "  I  have  also  made  one  not  to 
eat  until  I  have  found  the  man  I  seek." 

"  My  sister,"  said  the  cardinal,  astonished  and  soft- 
ened, approaching  to  observe  her,  "  God  does  not  exact 
such  rigors  from  a  weak  body,  and  particularly  from  one 
of  your  age,  for  you  seem  very  young." 

"  Young !  oh,  yes,  I  was  very  young  a  few  days 
ago  ;  but  I  have  since  passed  two  existences  at  least, 
so  much  have  I  thought  and  suffered.  Look  on  my 
countenance." 

And  she  discovered  a  face  perfectly  beautiful.  Black 
and  very  regular  eyes  gave  life  to  it ;  but  in  their  ab- 
sence one  might  have  thought  her  features  were  those 
of  a  phantom,  she  was  so  pale.  Her  lips  were  blue  and 
quivered ;  and  a  strong  shudder  made  the  encounter  of 
her  teeth  audible. 


204  CINQ- MARS. 

"You  are  ill,  my  sister,"  said  the  minister,  touched, 
taking  her  hand,  which  he  felt  to  be  burning  hot.  A 
sort  of  habit  of  inquiring  concerning  his  own  health, 
and  that  of  others,  made  him  touch  the  pulse  of  her 
emaciated  arm;  he  felt  the  arteries  lifted  by  the  beatings 
of  a  terrible  fever. 

"  Alas,"  continued  he,  with  more  of  interest,  "  you 
have  killed  yourself  with  rigors  beyond  human  strength ! 
I  have  always  blamed  them,  and  especially  at  a  tender 
age.  What,  then,  has  induced  you  to  this?  Is  it  to 
confide  it  to  me  that  you  are  come  ?  Speak  calmly, 
and  be  sure  of  succor." 

"  Confide  in  men ! "  answered  the  }roung  woman ;  "  oh, 
no,  never !  They  have  all  deceived  me.  I  will  confide 
myself  to  no  one,  not  even  to  M.  Cinq-Mars,  although 
he  must  soon  die." 

"  What !  "  said  Richelieu,  contracting  his  brows,  but 
with  a  bitter  laugh,  —  "what!  do  you  know  this  young 
man  ?  Has  he  been  the  cause  of  your  misfortune  ? " 

"  Oh,  no !  He  is  very  good,  and  hates  wickedness  ; 
that  is  what  will  ruin  him.  Besides,"  said  she,  suddenly 
assuming  a  harsh  and  savage  air,  "  men  are  weak,  and 
there  are  things  which  women  must  accomplish.  When 
there  were  no  more  valiant  men  in  Israel,  Deborah 
arose." 

"  Ah !  how  came  you  with  all  this  fine  learning  ? " 
continued  the  cardinal,  still  holding  her  hand. 

"  Oh,  I  can't  explain  that !  "  answered  she,  with  a 
touching  air  of  na'ivet^  and  a  very  gentle  voice ;  "  you 
would  not  understand  me.  It  is  the  Devil  who  has 
taught  me  all,  and  who  has  destroyed  me." 


THE  NIGHT-WATCH.  205 

"  Ah,  my  child !  it  is  always  he  who  destroys  us ; 
but  he  instructs  us  ill,"  said  Richelieu,  with  an  air 
of  paternal  protection  and  an  increasing  pity.  "  What 
have  been  your  faults  ?  Tell  them  to  me  ;  I  have  much 
power." 

"  Ah,"  said  she,  with  a  look;  of  doubt,  "  you  have 
much  influence  over  warriors,  brave  men  and  generals ! 
Beneath  your  cuirass  there  must  beat  a  noble  heart ; 
you  are  an  old  general  who  knows  nothing  of  the  tricks 
of  crime." 

Richelieu  smiled  ;  this  mistake  flattered  him. 

"  I  heard  you  ask  for  the  cardinal ;  do  you  desire  to 
see  him  ?  Did  you  come  here  to  seek  him  ? " 

The  girl  drew  back  and  placed  a  finger  upon  her 
forehead. 

"  I  had  forgotten  it,"  said  she ;  "  you  have  talked  to 
me  too  much.  I  had  overlooked  this  idea,  and  yet  it 

an  important  one;  it  is  for  it  that  I  have  condemned 
myself  to  the  hunger  which  kills  me.  I  must  accom- 
plish it,  or  I  shall  die  first.  Ah,"  said  she,  putting 
her  hand  beneath  her  robe  in  her  bosom,  whence  she 
appeared  to  take  something,  "  behold  it !  this  idea  —  " 

She  suddenly  blushed,  and  her  eyes  widened  extra- 
ordinarily. She  continued,  bending  to  the  ear  of  the 
cardinal,  — 

"  I  will  tell  you  ;  listen.  Urbain  Grandier,  my  lover 
Urbain,  told  me  this  night  that  it  was  Richelieu  who 
had  been  the  cause  of  his  death.  I  took  a  knife  from 
an  inn,  and  1  come  here  to  kill  him  ;  tell  me  where 
he  is." 

The  cardinal,  surprised  and  terrified,  recoiled  with 


206  CINQ-MARS. 

horror.  He  dared  not  call  his  guards,  fearing  the  cries 
of  this  woman  and  her  accusations ;  and  nevertheless,  a 
transport  of  this  madness  might  be  fatal  to  him. 

"  This  frightful  history  will  pursue  me  everywhere  ! " 
cried  he,  looking  fixedly  at  her,  and  thinking  within 
himself  of  the  course  he  should  take. 

They  remained  in  silence,  face  to  face,  in  the  same 
attitude,  like  two  wrestlers  who  contemplate  before  at- 
tacking one  another,  or  like  the  pointer  and  his  victim 
petrified  by  the  power  of  a  look. 

In  the  mean  time,  Laubardernont  and  Joseph  had 
gone  forth  together ;  and  ere  separating  they  talked  for 
a  moment  before  the  tent  of  the  cardinal,  because  they 
wanted  mutually  to  deceive  each  other.  Their  hatred 
had  just  acquired  new  force  by  their  quarrel ;  and  each 
had  resolved  to  ruin  his  rival  in  the  mind  of  his  master. 
The  judge  began  the  dialogue,  which  each  of  them  had 
prepared,  taking  the  arm  of  the  other  as  by  one  and  the 
same  movement. 

"  Ah,  reverend  father !  how  you  have  afflicted  me  by 
seeming  to  take  in  ill  part  some  trifling  pleasantries 
which  I  said  to  you  just  now." 

"  Heavens,  no !  my  dear  sir,  I  am  far  from  that. 
Charity,  where  would  be  charity  ?  I  have  sometimes  a 
holy  warmth  in  conversation,  for  the  good  of  the  State 
and  of  Monseigneur,  to  whom  I  am  entirely  devoted." 

"  Ah,  who  knows  it  better  than  I,  reverend  father  ? 
But  render  me  justice ;  you  also  know  how  completely 
I  am  attached  to  his  Eminence  the  Cardinal,  to  whom 
I  owe  all.  Alas  !  I  have  employed  too  much  zeal  in 
serving  him,  since  he  reproaches  me  with  it." 


THE  NIGHT-WATCH.  207 

"  Reassure  yourself,"  said  Joseph  ;  "  he  bears  no  ill- 
will  towards  you.  I  know  him  well ;  he  can  appreciate 
one's  actions  in  favor  of  one's  family.  He  too  is  a  very 
good  relative." 

"  Yes,  there  it  is,"  answered  Laubardemont ;  "  con- 
sider niy  condition.  My  niece  was  totally  lost  with  her 
convent  if  Urbain  had  triumphed ;  you  feel  that  as 
well  as  I  do,  particularly  as  she  did  not  quite  compre- 
hend us,  and  acted  the  child  when  she  was  obliged 
to  appear." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  In  full  audience  !  What  you  tell 
me  indeed  makes  me  feel  for  you.  How  painful  it 
must  have  been  !  " 

"  More  so  than  you  can  imagine.  She  forgot,  in  her 
possession,  all  that  she  had  been  told,  committed  a 
thousand  blunders  in  Latin,  which  we  patched  up  as 
well  as  we  could;  and  she  even  caused  an  unpleasant 
scene  on  the  day  of  the  trial,  very  unpleasant  for  me 
and  the  judges, — there  were  faintings-away  and  shrieks. 
Ah,  I  swear  that  I  would  have  scolded  her  well  if  I  had 
not  been  forced  to  quit  precipitately  that  little  town 
of  Loudun.  But,  look  you,  it  is  natural  enough  that 
I  am  attached  to  her.  She  is  my  nearest  relative ;  for 
my  son  has  turned  out  ill,  and  no  one  knows  what  has 
become  of  him  during  the  last  four  years.  Poor  little 
Jeanne  de  Belfiel !  I  made  her  a  nun,  and  then  abbess, 
in  order  to  preserve  all  for  that  scamp.  If  I  had  fore- 
seen his  conduct,  I  would  have  retained  her  for  the 
world." 

"  She  is  said  to  have  great  beauty,"  answered  Joseph ; 
"  that  is  a  precious  gift  for  a  family.  She  might  have 


208  CINQ-MARS. 

been  presented  at  court,  and  the  king  —  Ah !  ah ! 
Mademoiselle  de  la  Fayette  —  eh  !  eh  !  —  Mademoiselle 
d'Hautefort  —  you  understand ;  it  may  be  even  possible 
to  think  of  it  yet." 

"  Ah,  that  is  like  you,  Monseigneur !  for  we  know 
that  you  have  been  nominated  to  the  cardinalate ;  how 
good  you  are  to  remember  the  most  devoted  of  your 
friends ! " 

Laubardemont  was  yet  talking  to  Joseph  when  they 
found  themselves  at  the  end  of  the  line  of  the  camp, 
which  led  to  the  quarter  of  the  volunteers. 

"  May  God  and  his  holy  Mother  protect  you  during 
my  absence ! "  said  Joseph,  stopping.  "  To-morrow  I  de- 
part for  Paris;  and  as  I  shall  have  frequent  business 
with  this  young  Cinq-Mars,  I  will  first  go  to  see  him, 
and  learn  news  of  his  wound." 

"  If  I  had  been  listened  to,"  said  Laubardemont,  "  you 
would  not  now  have  had  this  trouble." 

"  Alas,  you  are  right ! "  answered  Joseph,  with  a  pro- 
found sigh,  and  raising  his  eyes  to  heaven  ;  "  but  the 
cardinal  is  no  longer  the  same  man.  He  will  not  take 
advantage  of  good  ideas ;  he  will  ruin  us  if  he  goes 
on  so." 

And  making  a  low  bow  to  the  judge,  the  Capuchin 
took  the  road  which  he  had  indicated  to  him. 

Laubardemont  followed  him  for  some  time  with  his 
eyes,  and  when  he  was  quite  sure  of  the  route  which 
he  had  taken,  he  returned,  or  rather  ran  back,  to  the 
tent  of  the  minister.  "The  cardinal  sends  him  away, 
he  tells  me ;  that  shows  that  he  is  tired  of  him.  I  know 
secrets  which  will  ruin  him.  I  will  add  that  he  is  gone 


THE  NIGHT-WATCH.  209 

to  pay  court  to  the  future  favorite.  I  will  replace  this 
monk  in  the  favor  of  the  minister.  The  moment  is 
propitious.  It  is  midnight ;  he  is  to  be  alone  for  an 
hour  and  a  half  yet.  Let  me  run." 

He  arrived  at  the  tent  of  the  guards,  which  was  before 
the  pavilion. 

"  Monseigneur  gives  audience  to  some  one,"  said  the 
captain,  hesitating;  "you  cannot  enter." 

"  Never  mind ;  you  saw  me  leave  an  hour  ago,  and 
there  are  things  passing  of  which  I  must  give  an 
account." 

"  Come  in,  Laubardemont,"  cried  the  minister ;  "  come 
in  quickly,  and  alone." 

He  entered.  The  cardinal,  still  seated,  held  the  two 
hands  of  the  nun  in  one  of  his,  and  with  the  other  he 
imposed  silence  upon  his  stupefied  agent,  who  remained 
motionless,  not  yet  seeing  the  face  of  this  woman.  She 
spoke  volubly,  and  the  strange  things  she  said  contrasted 
horribly  with  the  sweetness  of  her  voice.  Richelieu 
seemed  moved. 

"  Yes,  I  will  stab  him  with  a  knife.  It  is  the  knife 
which  the  demon  Beherith  gave  me  at  the  inn ;  but  it 
is  the  nail  of  Sisera.  It  has  a  handle  of  ivory,  look  you ; 
and  I  have  wept  much  over  it.  Is  it  not  singular,  my 
good  general  ?  I  will  turn  it  in  the  throat  of  him  who 
killed  my  friend,  as  he  himself  told  me  to  do;  and  after- 
wards I  will  burn  the  body.  There  is  like  for  like,  the 
punishment  which  God  permitted  to  Adam.  You  have 
an  astonished  air,  my  brave  general ;  but  you  would  be 
much  more  so,  if  I  were  to  repeat  to  you  his  song, — 
the  song  which  he  sang  to  me  again  yesterday  night,  at 

VOL.  I.  —  14 


210  CINQ-MARS. 

the  hour  of  the  funeral- pyre,  —  you  understand?  —  the 
hour  when  it  rains,  the  hour  when  my  hand  burns,  as 
now.  He  said  to  me,  '  They  are  much  deceived,  the 
magistrates,  the  red  judges.  I  have  eleven  demons  at 
my  command ;  and  I  shall  come  to  see  you  when  the 
clock  strikes,  under  a  canopy  of  purple  velvet,  with 
torches,  —  torches  of  resin  to  give  us  light  — '  Ah,  that 
is  beautiful !  Listen,  listen  to  what  he  sings  ! " 

And  she  sang  a  strange  and  melancholy  strain  to  the 
air  of  De  Profundis. 

"  Is  it  not  singular,  my  good  general  ? "  said  she, 
when  she  had  finished  ;  "  and  I,  —  I  answer  him  every 
evening.  Then  he  speaks,  and  speaks  as  spirits  and 
prophets  do.  He  says,  '  Woe,  woe  to  him  who  has  shed 
blood !  Are  the  judges  of  the  earth  gods  ?  No,  they 
are  men  who  grow  old  and  suffer,  and  yet  they  dare 
to  say  aloud,  Let  that  man  die  !  The  penalty  of  death, 
the  pain  of  death,  —  who  has  given  to  man  the  right  of 
imposing  it  on  man  ?  Is  the  number  two  ?  One  would 
be  an  assassin,  look  you !  But  count  well,  one,  two, 
three.  Behold,  they  are  wise  and  just,  these  grave  and 
salaried  criminals  !  0  crime,  the  horror  of  Heaven  !  If 
you  looked  upon  them  from  above  as  I  look  upon  them, 
you  would  be  yet  paler  than  I  am.  Flesh  destroys  flesh ! 
That  which  lives  by  blood  sheds  blood  coldly  and  with- 
out anger,  like  a  God  with  power  to  create ! ' ' 

The  cries  which  the  unhappy  girl  uttered,  as  she 
rapidly  spoke  these  words,  terrified  Richelieu  and  Lau- 
bardemont  so  much  that  they  still  remained  motionless. 
The  delirium  and  the  fever  continued  to  transport 
her. 


THE  NIGHT-WATCH.  211 

"  '  Did  the  judges  tremble  ? '  said  Urbain  Grandier  to 
me.  '  Did  they  tremble  at  deceiving  themselves  ? '  They 
work  the  death  of  the  just.  The  question !  They  bind 
his  limbs  with  ropes  to  make  him  speak.  His  skin 
cracks,  tears  away,  and  rolls  up  like  a  parchment ;  his 
nerves  are  naked,  red,  and  glittering ;  his  bones  crack ; 
the  marrow  spurts  out.  But  the  judges  sleep !  they 
dream  of  flowers  and  spring.  '  How  hot  the  grand  cham- 
ber is  ! '  says  one,  awaking ;  'this  man  has  not  chosen  to 
speak  !  Is  the  torture  finished  ?'  And  pitiful  at  last,  he 
dooms  him  to  death,  —  death,  the  sole  fear  of  the  living! 
death,  the  unknown  world  !  He  sends  before  him  a 
furious  soul  which  will  wait  for  him.  Oh  !  has  he  never 
seen  the  vision  of  vengeance  ?  Has  he  never  seen  before 
falling  to  sleep  the  flayed  prevaricator?" 

Already,  weakened  by  fever,  fatigue,  and  grief,  the 
cardinal,  seized  with  horror  and  pity,  exclaimed, — 

"  Ah,  for  the  love  of  God,  let  this  terrible  scene  have 
an  end  !  Take  away  this  woman ;  she  is  mad  !  " 

The  frantic  creature  turned,  and  suddenly  uttering 
loud  cries,  "  Ah,  the  judge  !  the  judge  !  the  judge  !  "  she 
said,  recognizing  Laubardemont. 

The  latter,  clasping  his  hands,  and  trembling  before 
the  cardinal,  said  with  terror, — 

"  Alas,  Monseigncur,  pardon  me !  she  is  my  niece, 
who  has  lost  her  reason.  I  was  not  aware  of  this  mis- 
fortune, or  she  would  have  been  shut  up  long  ago. 
Jeanne !  Jeanne  !  come,  Madame,  to  your  knees  !  ask 
forgiveness  of  Monseigneur  the  Cardinal-Due." 

"  It  is  Richelieu ! "  cried  she ;  and  astonishment 
seemed  wholly  to  paralyze  this  young  and  unhappy 


212  CINQ-MARS. 

beauty.  The  flush  which  had  animated  her  at  first 
gave  place  to  a  deadly  paleness,  her  cries  to  a  motion- 
less silence,  her  wandering  looks  to  a  frightful  fixed- 
ness of  her  large  eyes,  which  constantly  followed  the 
agitated  minister. 

"  Take  away  this  unfortunate  child  quickly,"  said  he ; 
"  she  is  dying,  and  so  am  I.  So  many  horrors  pursue 
me  since  that  sentence  that  I  believe  all  hell  is  loosed 
upon  me." 

He  rose  as  he  spoke ;  Jeanne  de  Belfiel,  still  silent 
and  stupefied,  with  haggard  eyes,  open  mouth,  and  head 
bent  forward,  yet  remained  beneath  the  shock  of  her 
double  surprise,  which  seemed  to  have  extinguished  the 
rest  of  her  reason  and  her  strength.  At  the  movement 
of  the  cardinal,  she  shuddered  to  find  herself  between 
him  and  Laubardemont,  looked  by  turns  at  one  and  the 
other,  let  the  knife  which  she  held  fall  from  her  hand, 
and  retired  slowly  towards  the  opening  of  the  tent, 
covering  herself  completely  with  her  veil,  and  looking 
wildly  and  with  terror  behind  her  upon  her  uncle  who 
followed,  like  an  affrighted  lamb,  which  already  feels 
at  its  back  the  burning  breath  of  the  wolf  about  to 
seize  it. 

Thus  they  both  went  forth ;  and  scarcely  in  the  open 
air,  the  furious  judge  caught  the  hands  of  his  victim, 
tied  them  with  a  handkerchief,  and  easily  led  her,  for 
she  uttered  no  cry,  not  even  a  sigh,  but  followed  him 
with  her  head  still  drooping  upon  her  bosom,  and  as  if 
plunged  in  profound  somnambulism. 


THE    NIGHT  WATCH 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE    SPANIARD. 

Qu'un  ami  veritable  est  une  douce  chose ! 

II  cherche  vos  besoms  au  fond  de  votre  cceur ; 

II  vous  e'pargne  la  pudeur 

De  les  lui  de'couvrir  vous-meme. 

LA  FONTAINE. 

IN  the  mean  time,  a  scene  of  quite  a  different  nature  was 
passing  in  the  tent  of  Cinq-Mars ;  the  words  of  the  king, 
the  first  balm  to  his  wounds,  had  been  followed  by  the 
anxious  care  of  the  surgeons  of  the  court.  A  spent  ball, 
easily  extracted,  had  been  the  only  cause  of  his  acci- 
dent. He  was  allowed  to  travel ;  and  all  was  ready. 
The  invalid  had  received  up  to  midnight  friendly  or 
interested  visits ;  among  the  first  were  those  of  little 
Gondi  and  of  Fontrailles,  who  were  also  preparing  to  quit 
Perpignan  for  Paris.  The  ex-page,  Olivier  d'Entraigues, 
joined  with  them  in  complimenting  the  fortunate  volun- 
teer, whom  the  king  seemed  to  have  distinguished.  The 
habitual  coldness  of  the  prince  towards  all  who  sur- 
rounded him  having  caused  those  who  knew  of  them  to 


214  CINQ-MARS. 

regard  the  few  words  he  had  spoken  as  assured  signs 
of  high  favor,  all  came  to  congratulate  him. 

At  length,  released  from  visitors,  he  lay  upon  his 
camp-bed.  De  Thou  sat  by  his  side,  holding  his  hand, 
and  Grandchamp  at  his  feet,  still  grumbling  at  the 
numerous  interruptions  that  had  fatigued  his  wounded 
master.  Cinq-Mars  himself  tasted  one  of  those  moments 
of  calm  and  hope,  which  so  refresh  the  soul  as  well  as 
the  body.  The  hand  unoccupied  by  his  friend  secretly 
pressed  the  gold  cross  that  hung  next  to  his  heart,  and 
the  beloved  donor  of  which  he  was  so  soon  to  behold. 
It  was  but  outwardly  that  with  kindly  looks  he  heard  the 
counsels  of  the  young  magistrate ;  his  inward  thoughts 
were  all  turned  towards  the  object  of  his  journey,  —  the 
object,  also,  of  his  life.  The  grave  De  Thou  went  on 
in  a  calm,  gentle  voice, — - 

"  I  shall  soon  follow  you  to  Paris.  I  am  happier  than 
yourself  at  seeing  the  king  take  you  there  with  him. 
You  are  right  in  looking  upon  it  as  the  commencemen 
of  a  friendship  which  must  be  turned  to  profit.  I  have 
deeply  reflected  on  the  secret  causes  of  your  ambition, 
and  I  think  I  have  divined  your  heart.  Yes ;  that 
feeling  of  love  for  France,  which  made  it  beat  in  your 
earliest  youth,  must  have  gained  greater  strength.  You 
would  be  near  the  king  in  order  to  serve  your  country, 
in  order  to  put  in  action  those  golden  dreams  of  your 
early  years.  Certes,  the  thought  is  a  vast  one,  and 
worthy  of  you !  I  admire  you  ;  I  bow  before  you.  To 
approach  the  monarch  with  the  chivalrous  devotion  of 
our  fathers,  with  a  heart  full  of  candor,  and  prepared 
for  any  sacrifice ;  to  receive  the  confidences  of  his  soul ; 


THE  SPANIARD.  215 

to  pour  into  his  those  of  his  subjects;  to  soften  the 
sorrows  of  the  king  by  telling  him  the  confidence  his 
people  have  in  him ;  to  cure  the  wounds  of  the  people 
by  laying  them  open  to  its  master,  and  by  the  interven- 
tion of  your  favor  thus  to  re-establish  that  intercourse 
of  love  between  the  father  and  his  children  which  for 
eighteen  years  has  been  interrupted  by  a  man  whose 
heart  is  marble ;  for  this  noble  enterprise,  to  expose 
yourself  to  all  the  horrors  of  his  vengeance  and,  what  is 
even  worse,  to  brave  all  the  perfidious  calumnies  which 
pursue  the  favorite  to  the  very  steps  of  the  throne,  — 
this  dream  was  worthy  of  you.  Pursue  it,  my  friend. 
Be  never  discouraged.  Speak  loudly  to  the  king  of  the 
merit  and  misfortunes  of  his  most  illustrious  friends 
who  are  trampled  on.  Tell  him  fearlessly  that  his  old 
nobility  have  never  conspired  against  him ;  and  that 
from  the  young  Montmorency  to  the  amiable  Comte  de 
Soissons,  all  have  opposed  the  minister,  and  never  the 
monarch.  Tell  him  that  the  old  families  of  France 
were  born  with  his  race ;  that  in  striking  them  he 
affects  the  whole  nation ;  and  that  if  he  destroy  them, 
his  own  race  will  suffer,  that  it  will  stand  alone  exposed 
to  the  blast  of  time  and  events,  as  an  old  oak  trembling 
and  exposed  to  the  wind  of  the  plain,  when  the  forest 
which  surrounded  and  supported  it  has  been  destroyed. 
Yes,"  cried  De  Thou,  growing  animated,  "  this  aim  is  a 
fine  and  noble  one.  Go  on  in  your  course  with  a  reso- 
lute step ;  expel  even  that  secret  shame,  that  bashfulness, 
which  a  noble  soul  experiences  before  it  can  resolve 
upon  flattering,  —  upon  paying  what  the  world  calls  its 
court.  Alas,  kings  are  accustomed  to  these  continual 


216  CINQ-MARS. 

expressions  of  false  admiration  for  them !  Look  upon 
them  as  a  new  language  which  must  be  learned,  —  a 
language  hitherto  foreign  to  your  lips,  but  which,  believe 
me,  may  be  nobly  spoken,  and  which  may  express  high 
and  generous  thoughts." 

During  this  warm  discourse  of  his  friend,  Cinq-Mars 
could  not  refrain  from  a  sudden  blush ;  and  he  turned 
his  head  on  his  pillow  towards  the  tent,  so  that  he 
might  not  be  seen.  De  Thou  stopped :  — 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Henri  ?  You  do  not  answer. 
Am  I  deceived  ? " 

Cinq-Mars  gave  a  deep  sigh,  and  was  still  silent. 

"  Is  not  your  heart  affected  by  these  ideas  which  I 
thought  would  have  transported  it  ? " 

The  wounded  man  looked  more  calmly  at  his  friend, 
and  said, — 

"  I  thought,  my  dear  De  Thou,  that  you  were  not 
going  to  interrogate  me  farther,  and  that  you  were 
willing  to  have  a  blind  confidence  in  me.  What  evil 
genius  has  moved  you  thus  to  sound  my  soul  ?  I  am 
not  a  stranger  to  these  ideas  which  possess  you.  Who 
told  you  that  I  had  not  conceived  them  ?  Who  told  you 
that  I  had  not  formed  the  firm  resolution  of  prosecuting 
them  infinitely  farther  in  action  than  you  have  put  them 
into  words  ?  Love  for  France,  virtuous  hatred  of  the 
ambition  which  oppresses  and  shatters  her  ancient  insti- 
tutions with  the  axe  of  the  executioner,  the  firm  belief 
that  virtue  maybe  as  skilful  as  crime,  —  these  are  my 
gods  as  much  as  yours.  But  when  you  see  a  man  kneel- 
ing in  a  church,  do  you  ask  him  what  saint  or  what 
angel  protects  him  and  receives  his  prayer  ?  What 


THE  SPANIARD.  217 

matters  it  to  you,  provided  that  he  pray  at  the  foot  of 
the  altars  that  you  adore,  provided  that  if  called  upon, 
he  fall  a  martyr  at  the  foot  of  those  altars  ?  When  our 
forefathers  journeyed  with  naked  feet  towards  the  holy 
sepulchre,  with  a  pilgrim's  staff  in  their  hands,  did  men 
inquire  the  secret  vow  which  led  them  to  the  Holy 
Land  ?  They  struck,  they  died  ;  and  men,  perhaps  God 
himself,  asked  no  more.  The  pious  captain  who  led 
them  never  stripped  their  bodies  to  see  whether  the  red 
cross  and  haircloth  concealed  any  other  mysterious  sym- 
bol ;  and  in  heaven,  doubtless,  they  were  not  judged 
with  any  greater  rigor  for  having  aided  the  strength  of 
their  resolutions  upon  earth  by  some  hope  permitted 
to  a  Christian,  —  some  second  or  secret  thought,  more 
human,  and  nearer  the  mortal  heart." 

De  Thou  smiled,  and  slightly  colored,  lowering  his  eyes. 

"  My  friend,"  he  answered,  gravely  ;  "  this  excitement 
may  be  injurious  to  you.  Let  us  not  continue  this  sub- 
ject ;  let  us  not  mingle  God  and  heaven  in  our  discourse. 
T  is  not  well ;  and  draw  the  clothes  over  your  shoulder, 
for  the  night  is  cold.  I  promise  you,"  he  added,  cover- 
ing his  young  invalid  with  a  maternal  care,  —  "I  promise 
not  to  again  offend  you  with  my  counsels." 

"  And  I,"  cried  Cinq-Mars,  despite  the  interdiction  to 
speak,  "  swear  to  you  by  this  gold  cross  you  see,  and  by 
the  holy  Mary,  to  die  rather  than  renounce  the  plan  that 
you  first  traced  out !  You  may  one  day,  perhaps,  be 
forced  to  pray  me  to  stop  ;  but  then  it  will  be1  too  late." 

"  Well,  well !  "  repeated  the  counsellor,  "  now  sleep ; 
if  you  do  not  stop,  I  will  go  on  with  you,  wherever  you 
lead  me." 


218  CINQ-MARS. 

And  taking  a  prayer-book  from  his  pocket,  he  began 
to  read  attentively ;  in  a  short  time  he  looked  at  Cinq- 
Mars,  who  was  still  awake.  He  made  a  sign  to  Grand- 
champ  to  put  the  lamp  out  of  sight  of  the  invalid  ;  but 
this  new  care  succeeded  no  better.  The  latter,  with  his 
eyes  still  open,  tossed  restlessly  on  his  narrow  bed. 

"  Come,  you  are  not  calm,"  said  De  Thou,  smiling ; 
"  I  will  read  to  you  some  pious  passage  which  will  put 
your  mind  in  repose.  Ah,  my  friend,  it  is  here  that 
true  repose  is  to  be  found ;  it  is  in  this  consolatory 
book,  for,  open  it  where  you  will,  you  will  always  see, 
on  the  one  hand,  man  in  the  only  condition  that  suits 
his  weakness,  —  prayer,  and  the  uncertainty  as  to  his  des- 
tiny, —  and,  on  the  other,  God  himself  speaking  to  him 
of  his  infirmities  !  What  a  glorious  and  heavenly  spec- 
tacle !  What  a  sublime  bond  between  heaven  and  earth  ! 
Life,  death,  and  eternity  are  there ;  open  it  at  hazard." 

"  Yes ! "  said  Cinq-Mars,  rising  with  a  vivacity  which 
had  something  infantine  in  it ;  "  you  shall  read  to  me, 
but  let  me  open  the  book.  You  know  the  old  supersti- 
tion of  our  country,  —  when  the  mass-book  is  opened  with 
a  sword,  the  first  page  on  the  left  contains  the  destiny 
of  him  who  reads,  and  the  first  person  who  enters  after 
he  has  read  is  powerfully  to  influence  the  reader's  future 
fate." 

"  What  childishness  !  But  be  it  as  you  will.  There 's 
your  sword  ;  put  in  the  point.  Let  us  see." 

"Let  me  read  myself,"  said  Cinq-Mars,  taking  one 
side  of  the  book.  Old  Grandchamp  gravely  advanced 
his  tawny  face  and  his  gray  hair  to  the  foot  of  the  bed 
to  listen.  His  master  read,  stopped  at  the  first  phrase, 


THE  SPANIARD.  219 

but  with  a  smile,  perhaps  slightly  forced,  he  went  on  to 
the  end. 

"  I.  Now  it  was  in  the  city  of  Milan  that  they  appeared. 

"  II.  The  high-priest  said  to  them,  '  Bow  down  and 
adore  the  gods.' 

"  III.  And  the  people  were  silent,  looking  at  their  faces, 
which  appeared  as  the  faces  of  angels. 

"  IV.  But  Gervais,  taking  the  hand  of  Protais,  cried, 
looking  to  heaven,  and  filled  with  the  Hoi}"  Ghost,  — 

"V.  Oh,  my  brother!  I  see  the  Son  of  man  smiling 
upon  us  ;  let  me  die  first. 

"VI.  For  if  I  see  thy  blood,  I  fear  I  shall  shed  tears 
unworthy  of  the  Lord  our  God. 

"  VII.  Then  Protais  answered  him  in  these  words,  — 

"  VIII.  My  brother,  it  is  just  that  I  should  perish  after 
thee,  for  I  am  older,  and  have  more  strength  to  see  thee 
suffer. 

"  IX.  But  the  senators  and  people  ground  their  teeth 
at  them. 

"  X.  And  the  soldiers  having  struck  them,  their  heads 
fell  together  on  the  same  stone. 

"XI.  Now  it  was  in  this  same  place  that  the  blessed 
Saint  Ambrose  found  the  ashes  of  the  two  martyrs  which 
gave  sight  to  the  blind." 

"  Well,"  said  Cinq-Mars,  looking  at  his  friend  when 
he  had  finished,  "what  do  you  say  to  that?" 

"  God's  will  be  done  !  but  we  should  not  scrutinize 
it." 

"Nor  put  off  our  designs  for  a  child's  play,"  said 
D'Effiat,  impatiently,  and  pulling  round  him  a  cloak 
which  was  thrown  over  him.  "  Remember  the  lines  we 
formerly  so  frequently  quoted,  '  Justum  et  tenacem 
propositi  virum ; '  these  iron  words  are  stamped  upon 


220  CINQ-MARS. 

my  brain.  Yes ;  let  the  universe  crumble  around  me, 
its  wrecks  shall  carry  me  away  still  t  resolute." 

"  Let  us  not  compare  the  thoughts  of  man  with  those 
of  Heaven;  and  let  us  be  submissive,"  said  De  Thou, 
gravely. 

"Amen!"  said  old  Grandchamp,  whose  eyes  had 
filled  with  tears,  which  he  hastily  brushed  away. 

"  What  hast  thou  to  do  with  it,  old  soldier  ?  Thou 
weepest,"  said  his  master. 

"  Amen ! "  said  a  voice,  in  a  nasal  tone,  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  tent. 

"  Parbleu,  Monsieur !  rather  put  that  question  to  his 
Gray  Eminence,  who  comes  to  visit  you,"  answered  the 
faithful  servant,  pointing  to  Joseph,  who  advanced  with 
his  arms  crossed,  making  a  salutation  with  a  frowning 
air. 

"  Ah,  it  will  be  he,  then !  "  murmured  Cinq-Mars. 

"  Perhaps  I  come  mal  a  propos"  said  Joseph,  sooth- 
ingly. 

"  Perhaps  very  d propos"  said  Henri  d'Effiat,  smiling, 
with  a  glance  at  De  Thou.  "  What  can  bring  you  here, 
Father,  at  one  in  the  morning  ?  It  should  be  some  good 
work."  \ 

Joseph  saw  he  was  ill  received  ;  and  as  he  had  always 
sundry  reproaches  to  make  himself  with  reference  to  all 
the  persons  whom  he  addressed,  and  as  many  resources 
in  his  mind  for  getting  out  of  the  difficulty,  he  fancied 
that  they  had  discovered  the  object  of  his  visit,  and  felt 
that  it  was  not  a  moment  of  ill  humor  that  he  ought  to 
select  for  preparing  the  way  to  friendship.  Therefore, 
seating  himself  coldly  near  the  bed,  he  said, — 


THE  SPANIARD.  221 

"  I  come,  sir,  to  speak  to  you  on  the  part  of  the  car- 
dinal-generalissimo, of  the  two  Spanish  prisoners  you  have 
made  ;  he  desires  to  have  the  most  prompt  information 
concerning  them.  I  am  to  see  and  question  them.  But 
1  did  not  suppose  you  were  still  awake ;  I  merely  wished 
to  receive  them  of  your  people." 

After  a  forced  interchange  of  politeness,  they  ordered 
into  the  tent  the  two  prisoners,  whom  Cinq-Mars  had 
almost  forgotten. 

They  appeared,  —  the  one,  young  and  displaying  an 
animated  and  rather  wild  countenance,  was  the  sol- 
dier ;  the  other,  concealing  his  form  under  a  brown 
cloak,  and  his  gloomy  features,  which  had  something 
ambiguous  in  their  expression,  under  his  broad-brimmed 
hat,  which  he  did  not  take  off,  was  the  officer.  He 
spoke  first :  — 

"  Why  do  you  make  me  leave  my  straw  and  my  sleep  ? 
Is  it  to  deliver  me  or  hang  me  ?  " 

"  Neither,"  said  Joseph. 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  thee,  man  with  the  long 
beard  ?  I  did  not  see  thee  at  the  breach." 

It  took  some  time  after  this  amiable  exordium  to 
make  the  stranger  understand  the  right  a  Capuchin  had 
to  interrogate  him. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  what  dost  want?  " 

"  I  would  know  your  name  and  country." 

"  I  shall  not  tell  my  name  ;  and  as  for  my  country,  I 
have  the  air  of  a  Spaniard,  but  perhaps  am  not  one,  for 
a  Spaniard  never  acknowledges  his  country." 

Father  Joseph,  turning  towards  the  two  friends,  said, 
"  Unless  I  deceive  myself,  I  have  heard  his  voice  some- 


222  CINQ-MARS. 

where.  This  man  speaks  French  without  any  accent ; 
but  it  seems  he  wishes  to  give  us  enigmas,  as  in  the 
East." 

"  The  East  ?  that 's  it,"  said  the  prisoner.  "  A  Span- 
iard is  a  man  from  the  East ;  he  is  a  Catholic  Turk ;  his 
blood  flags  or  boils ;  he  is  lazy  or  indefatigable  ;  indo- 
lence makes  him  a  slave,  ardor  a  tyrant ;  immovable  in 
his  ignorance,  ingenious  in  his  superstition,  he  wants 
only  a  religious  book  and  a  tyrannical  master ;  he  obeys 
the  law  of  the  pyre ;  he  commands  by  that  of  the  pon- 
iard ;  at  night  he  falls  asleep  in  his  bloodthirsty 
misery,  nurses  fanaticism,  and  awakes  to  crime.  Who 
is  this  gentleman  ?  Is  it  the  Spaniard  or  the  Turk  ? 
Guess !  Ah,  ah  !  you  seem  to  discover  that  I  have  wit, 
because  I  light  upon  analogy.  Truly,  gentlemen,  you 
do  me  honor  ;  and  yet  the  idea  may  be  carried  much 
further,  if  desired.  If  I  pass  to  the  physical  order,  for 
example,  may  I  not  say  to  you,  this  man  has  serious 
and  long  features,  a  black  and  almond-shaped  eye, 
rugged  brows,  a  sad  and  changeable  mouth,  tawny, 
meagre,  and  wrinkled  cheeks ;  his  head  is  shaved,  and 
he  covers  it  with  a  black  handkerchief  in  the  form  of  a 
turban  ;  he  passes  a  whole  day  lying  or  standing  under 
a  burning  sun,  without  motion,  without  utterance,  smok- 
ing a  pipe  that  intoxicates  him.  Is  this  a  Turk  or 
a  Spaniard  ?  Are  you  content,  gentlemen  ?  Truly,  it 
would  seem  so ;  you  laugh,  and  what  do  you  laugh  at  ? 
I,  who  have 'presented  this  idea  to  you,  —  I  have  not 
laughed  ;  see,  my  countenance  is  sad.  Ah  1  perhaps  it 
is  because  the  gloomy  prisoner  has  suddenly  become  a 
gossip,  and  talks  quick.  Ah,  that 's  nothing!  I  might 


.  THE  SPANIARD,  223 

tell  you  other  things,  and  render  you  some  service,  my 
worthy  friends.  If  I  ran  into  anecdote,  for  example ;  if 
I  told  you  I  knew  a  priest  who  ordered  the  death  of 
some  heretics  before  saying  mass,  and  who,  furious  at 
being  interrupted  at  the  altar  during  the  holy  sacrifice, 
cried  to  those  who  asked  for  his  orders,  '  Kill  them 
all !  kill  them  all ! '  —  should  you  all  laugh,  gentlemen  ? 
No,  not  all !  This  gentleman  here,  for  instance,  would 
bite  his  lips  and  his  beard.  Oh  !  it  is  true  he  might  an- 
swer that  he  did  wisely,  and  that  they  were  wrong  to 
interrupt  his  unsullied  prayer.  But  if  I  added  that  he 
concealed  himself  for  an  hour  behind  the  curtain  of 
your  tent,  M.  de  Cinq-Mars,  to  listen  while  you  talked, 
and  that  he  came  to  betray  you,  and  not  for  me,  what 
would  he  say  ?  Now,  gentlemen,  are  you  content  ? 
May  I  retire  after  this  display  ? " 

The  prisoner  had  uttered  this  with  the  rapidity  of  a 
quack  vending  his  wares,  and  in  so  loud  a  voice  that 
Joseph  was  quite  confounded.  He  indignantly  arose  at 
last,  and  addressing  himself  to  Cinq-Mars,  said, — 

"  How  can  you  suffer  a  prisoner  who  ought  to  have 
been  hanged  to  speak  to  you  thus,  sir  ?  " 

The  Spaniard,  without  deigning  to  attend  to  him 
any  farther,  leaned  towards  D'Effiat,  and  whispered  in 
his  ear, — 

"  I  can  be  of  no  farther  use  to  you ;  give  me  my 
liberty.  I  might  ere  this  have  taken  it ;  but  I  would 
not  do  so  without  your  consent.  Give  it  me,  or  have 
me  killed." 

"  Go,  if  you  will !  "  said  Cinq-Mars  to  him.  "  I  as- 
sure you  I  shall  be  very  glad ; "  and  he  told  his  people 


224  CINQ-MARS. 

to  retire  with  the  soldier,  whom  he  wished  to  keep  in 
his  service. 

This  was  the  affair  of  a  moment.  There  no  longer 
remained  any  one  in  the  tent  but  the  two  friends,  —  the 
abashed  Joseph  and  the  Spaniard,  —  when  the  latter,  tak- 
ing off  his  hat,  showed  a  French  but  savage  countenance. 
He  laughed,  and  seemed  to  respire  more  air  into  his 
broad  chest. 

"  Yes,  I  am  a  Frenchman,"  he  said  to  Joseph.  "  But 
I  hate  France,  because  she  gave  birth  to  my  father,  who 
is  a  monster,  and  to  me,  who  have  become  one,  and  who 
once  struck  him.  I  hate  her  inhabitants,  because  they 
have  robbed  me  of  my  whole  fortune  at  play,  and  be- 
cause I  have  robbed  them  and  killed  them.  I  have  been 
two  years  in  Spain  in  order  to  kill  more  Frenchmen ; 
but  now  I  hate  Spain  still  more.  No  one  will  know  why. 
Adieu !  I  must  live  henceforth  without  a  nation ;  all 
men  are  my  enemies.  Go  on,  Joseph,  and  you  will 
soon  be  as  good  as  I.  Yes,  you  saw  me  once  before," 
continued  he,  violently,  pushing  him  in  the  breast  and 
throwing  him  down.  "  I  am  Jacques  de  Laubardemont, 
the  son  of  your  worthy  friend." 

At  these  words,  quickly  leaving  the  tent,  he  disap- 
peared like  an  apparition.  De  Thou  and  the  servants, 
who  ran  to  the  entrance,  saw  him  with  two  bounds 
spring  over  a  surprised  and  disarmed  soldier,  and  run 
towards  the  mountains  with  the  swiftness  of  a  hart, 
despite  various  musket-shots.  Joseph  took  advantage 
of  the  disorder  to  slip  away,  stammering  a  few  words  of 
politeness,  and  left  the  two  friends  laughing  at  his  ad- 
venture and  his  disappointment,  as  two  schoolboys  laugh 


THE  SPANIARD.  225 

at  seeing  the  spectacles  of  their  pedagogue  fall  off,  and 
at  last  preparing  to  seek  a  rest  of  which  they  both  stood 
in  need,  and  which  they  soon  found,  —  the  wounded  man 
in  his  bed,  and  the  young  counsellor  in  his  chair. 

As  for  the  Capuchin,  he  walked  towards  his  tent, 
meditating  how  he  should  turn  all  this  so  as  to  take  the 
greatest  possible  revenge,  when  he  met  Laubardemont, 
dragging  by  her  two  hands  the  young  mad-woman.  They 
recounted  to  one  another  their  mutual  and  horrible 
adventures. 

Joseph  had  no  small  pleasure  in  turning  the  poniard 
in  the  wound  of  his  friend's  heart,  by  telling  him  of  the 
fate  of  his  son. 

"  You  are  not  singularly  happy  in  your  family,"  he 
added.  "  I  advise  you  to  shut  up  your  niece  and  hang 
your  son,  if  you  are  fortunate  enough  to  find  him." 

Laubardemont  replied  with  a  hideous  laugh,  — 

"  As  for  this  idiot  here,  I  am  going  to  give  her  to  an 
ex-secret  judge,  at  present  a  smuggler  in  the  Pyrenees 
at  Oleron.  He  can  make  what  he  pleases  of  her,  —  a 
servant  in  his  posada,  for  instance.  I  care  not,  so  that 
my  Lord  never  hears  of  her." 

Jeanne  de  Belfiel,  her  head  hanging  down,  gave  no 
sign  of  sensibility.  Every  glimmer  of  reason  was  extin- 
guished in  her  ;  one  word  alone  remained  upon  her  lips, 
and  this  she  continually  pronounced. 

"  The  judge  !  the  judge  !  the  judge !  "  she  said  mur- 
muringly,  and  was  silent. 

The  uncle  and  Joseph  threw  her,  almost  like  a  sack 
of  corn,  on  one  of  the  horses  which  were  led  up  by  two 
servants.  Laubardemont  mounted  another,  and  prepared 
VOL.  i.  — 15 


226  CINQ-MARS. 

to  leave  the  camp,  wishing  to  get  into  the  mountains 
before  day. 

"  A  good  j6urney  to  you  !  "  he  said  to  Joseph.  "  Exe- 
cute your  business  well  in  Paris.  I  commend  to  you 
Orestes  and  Pylades." 

"  A  good  journey  to  you  !  "  answered  the  other.  "  I 
commend  to  you  Cassandra  and  (Edipus." 

"  Oh  !  he  has  neither  killed  his  father  nor  married  his 
mother." 

"  But  he  is  on  the  high-road  to  those  little  pleasantries." 

"  Adieu,  my  reverend  father  !  " 

"  Adieu,  my  venerable  friend  !  " 

They  said  aloud,  but  in  a  low  voice,  — 

"  Adieu,  assassin  in  the  gray  robe  !  During  thy  ab- 
sence I  shall  have  the  ear  of  the  cardinal." 

"  Adieu,  villain  in  the  red  robe  !  Go  thyself  and  de- 
stroy thy  cursed  family.  Finish  shedding  that  portion 
of  thy  blood  that  is  in  others'  veins.  What  of  it  re- 
mains in  thee,  I  will  take  charge  of.  I' faith,  a  well- 
employed  night ! " 


NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS. 


WHEN  this  work  appeared  for  the  first  time,1  it  appeared 
without  notes,  simply  as  a  work  of  art,  as  a  summary  of  a 
century.  That  it  might  be  rightly  judged  by  the  public, 
the  author  would  not  surround  it  in  any  way  with  the 
apparent  eclat  of  historical  research,  with  which  it  is  too 
easy  to  decorate  a  new  book.  He  wished  not  to  show  the 
true  in  detail,  but  the  epic  work,  the  composition  with  its 
tragedy,  the  scenes  of  which  comprise  all  the  eminent  per- 
sonages of  the  time  of  Louis  XIII.  The  author,  however, 
soon  found  it  necessary  to  indicate  the  principal  sources  of 
his  labors  ;  and  as  he  had  ever  desired  to  go  back  to  the 
purest  sources,  —  that  is  to  say,  to  the  manuscripts,  and  in 
their  default,  to  their  contemporary  impressions,  —  he  added 
the  present  documents  to  the  second  edition  of  "  Cinq- 
Mars,"  2  to  correct  the  erroneous  ideas  prevalent  as  to  the 
authenticity  of  some  facts.  Subsequently,  he  returned  to 
the  simple  and  primitive  unity  of  his  work.  But  now 
again  that  his  production  has  been  multiplied  in  editions 
far  more  numerous  than  he  could  have  expected,  he  is 
desirous  that  minds  inquisitive  as  to  the  details  of  the 
vrai  anecdotique,  need  not  have  to  seek  elsewhere  for  the 
documents. 

1  March,  1826,  2  vols.  2  junej  i826. 


228     NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS. 

PAGE  103. 
Father  Joseph. 

"  In  his  youth,"  says  the  historian  of  Father  Joseph,  "  his  hair  and 
beard  were  of  a  somewhat  fiery  red.  He  perceived  that  Louis  XIII. 
could  not  bear  this  color ;  and  he  accordingly  took  pains  to  turn  it 
brown,  with  combs  of  lead  and  steel,  until  he  learned  the  secret  of  turn- 
ing it  white,  which  was  afterwards  communicated  to  him  by  a  quack 
doctor.  The  king's  horror  for  red  hair  was  so  great  that  one  day  his 
first  gentleman  of  the  chamber  (whose  brother  held  the  finest  governor- 
ship in  the  kingdom)  having  the  honor  to  accompany  his  Majesty  to 
Foutainebleau  on  a  hunting  expedition,  it  rained  so  hard  that  it  washed 
away  all  the  paint  with  which  he  concealed  the  redness  of  his  hair. 
The  prince,  perceiving  it,  was  terrified,  and  said  to  him,  '  Good  God, 
what  do  I  see  ?  never  appear  again  before  me  ! '  The  gentleman  was 
obliged  to  resign  his  post." 


PAGE  104. 

"  His  confidant." 

The  same  historian  says  :  —  % 

"  This  too  celebrated  Capuchin,  whom  one  of  his  historians  calls  the 
assistant  spirit  of  the  cardinal,  was  not  only  his  confidant,  but  that  of 
the  king  himself.  Inflexible,  pliant,  and  base,  he  strengthened  the 
steps  of  the  minister  in  the  path  of  blood,  and  assisted  him  to  draw 
thither  the  feeble  prince.  The  history  of  this  man  is  known  every- 
where. Here  are  the  details  of  one  of  his  tricks,  which  is  little 
known :  — 

"  Montmorency  was  taken  at  Casteluaudary.  Louis  XIII.  hesitated 
to  execute  him.  Monsieur,  who  had  abandoned  him  on  the  field  of 
battle,  earnestly  demanded  his  pardon.  The  cardinal  desired  his  death, 
but  did  not  know  how  to  obtain  this  precious  favor.  Bouillon  was 
charged  with  the  negotiation.  It  was  he  who  counselled  Gastou.  To 
him  Joseph  first  addressed  himself. 

"  He  got  hold  of  him  with  the  address  of  a  serpent,  and  through  him 
counselled  Monsieur  not  to  demand  assurances  from  the  king  of  the 
young  duke's  pardon,  but  to  remit  the  affair  entirely  to  Louis's  good- 
ness alone,  whose  heart,  he  said,  was  afflicted  by  the  appearance  of  a 


NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS.       229 

doubt  on  the  subject.  Monsieur  thought  he  saw  in  this  suggestion  an 
intention  to  pardon,  insinuated  by  his  brother  himself,  and  made  his 
peace  for  himself  alone,  without  stipulating  anything  for  the  young 
duke,  and  referring  him  to  the  king's  clemency.  It  was  then  that, 
in  a  conseil  ctroit  of  the  king,  the  cardinal,  and  Joseph,  the  latter  ven- 
tured to  speak  first,  and  playing  off  the  energy  of  his  political  vocifera- 
tions with  the  phlegmatic  arguments  of  the  cardinal,  forced  from  Louis 
the  promise,  too  well  kept,  that  he  would  be  inflexible." 

Brulart  de  Leon,  ambassador  at  Eatisbon  with  Joseph, 
says  that  the  Capuchin  had  nothing  Christian  about  him 
but  the  name,  and  sought  only  to  deceive  all  the  world. 

A  work  in  1635,  entitled  "  La  Verite  Defendue,"  speaks 
of  him  in  these  terms  :  — 

"  He  is  the  grand  inquisitor  of  the  State,  interrogates  alleged  crimi- 
nals, throws  them  into  prison  without  any  charge,  preventing  their 
justification  being  heard,  and  by  panic  terrors  draws  out  declarations 
which  serve  to  hide  the  cardinal's  injustice.  He  shamefully  makes  use 
of  heaven  for  his  earthly  purposes,  and  of  the  name  of  God  for  decep- 
tions, and  of  religion  for  the  knaveries  of  the  State." 

He  was  of  a  very  good  family  ;  the  name,  J)u  Tremblay. 
I  refer  to  the  published  life  of  this  unworthy  monk  those 
who  would  be  better  acquainted  with  him. 


PAGE  107. 

"The  cardinal  dictated  to  him  those  duties  of  a  new 
kind,"  etc. 

The  insolent  commands  of  the  ministerial  religion,  laid 
down  by  Eichelieu,  are  extracted  from  a  manuscript  men- 
tioned in  the  history  of  Father  Joseph. 

This  is  what  the  reverend  and  ingenious  historian  and 
genealogist,  the  continuator  of  the  Abbe  Eichard,  says  on 
the  subject :  — 

"  He  composed,  with  the  cardinal,  a  book  entitled,  '  L'Unite  du 
Ministre,  et  les  Qualites  qu'il  doit  avoir.'  This  work  never  saw  the 


230      NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS. 

light  at  the  time,  but  in  the  king's  hands  ;  and  it  is  this  treatise  which 
determined  his  Majesty  to  vest  the  entire  government  of  his  kingdom 
iu  his  Eminence.  I  have  seen  this  manuscript  in  folio ;  it  is  well 
written.  It  is  not  difficult  to  see  that  Father  Joseph  is  the  author  of 
it  by  reading  the  principal  propositions  set  forth  there,  —  first,  as  Chris- 
tian truths  ;  secondly,  as  political  truths.  This  work  might  be  entitled, 
'  Testament  politique  du  P.  Joseph..'  All  the  great  men  of  the  past 
century  left  such."  1 

PAGE  113. 

"  As  for  Marillac,"  etc. 

"  The  Marechal  de  Marillac  was  deprived  of  his  legitimate  judges,  — 
the  members  of  the  parliament,  —  who  in  vain  endeavored  to  take  cogni- 
zance of  the  affair,  and  saw  Mole,  their  attorney-general,  silenced. 
Dragged  from  tribunal  to  tribunal,  without  finding  one  sufficiently  clever 
to  detect  a  crime  in  him,  the  Marechal  de  Marillac  finally  fell  under  the 
decree  of  commissioners,  read  by  a  keeper  of  the  ecclesiastical  seals 
(Chateauneuf),  a  dispensation  from  Rome  being  got  for  him  expressly 
to  enable  him  to  condemn  a  man  without  reproach.  The  cardinal 
laughed  at  the  spectacles  he  had  forcibly  put  on  the  noses  of  the  judges, 
as  he  phrased  it.  What  confusion !  what  a  time !  We  cannot  throw 
too  great  a  light  upon  the  principal  points  of  history,  to  extinguish  the 
puerile  regrets  for  the  past  in  some  minds  which  do  not  sufficiently 
examine  the  history  of  the  period." 


PAGE  194. 

"  To  have  vigorously  extirpated  a  royal  Bourbon  branch." 
The  Comte  de  Soissons,  assassinated  at  the  battle  of 
Marfee,  which  he  gained  over  the  troops  of  the  king,  or 
rather  of  the  cardinal.  I  have  before  me  the  most  de- 
tailed contemporary  accounts  of  this  affair.  They  state  as 
follows  :  — 

"  The  regiments  of  Metternich  and  the  infantry  of  Lamboy  having 
broken  their  ranks,  there  remained  near  the  said  comte  only  two  or 
1  Hist,  du  P.  Joseph. 


NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL   DOCUMENTS.      231 

three  of  his  men.  In  this  confusion,  he  was  approached  by  a  single 
cavalier,  whom  his  men  did  not  recognize  in  this  confusion  as  an 
enemy,  and  who  fired  a  pistol  at  him  below  the  eye,  which  killed  him 
upon  the  spot.  This  great  prmce,  having  no  other  design  than  to  serve 
his  Majesty  and  his  kingdom,  and  to  stop  the  violence  of  him  who  seeks 
to  undermine  all  who  were  above  him,  he,  the  cardinal,  has  thus  extir- 
pated a  royal  branch  of  Bourbon,  having  had  this  prince  marked  and 
shot  by  one  of  his  guards,  who  had  placed  himself,  with  this  horrible 
design  and  by  his  command,  among  this  prince's  men,  —  being  recog- 
nized as  sucli  on  being  killed  on  the  spot,  as  the  villain  was,  by  Rique- 
mont,  esquire  of  the  same  defunct  prince."  J 

There  exists,  in  the  "  Bibliotbeque  de  Paris,"  a  curious 
autograph,  which  shows  how  much  the  cardinal  relied  on 
such  expeditions.  It  runs  thus  :  — 

Letter  of  M.  des  Noyers  to  M.  le  Marechal  de  Chatillon,  after  the  battle 

of  Sedan. 

The  king  has  resolved  to  give  a  government  and  a  pension  for  life  to 
the  soldier  who  killed  the  enemy's  general.  M.  le  Marechal  will  send 
the  soldier  in  question  to  Reims  to  his  Majesty  immediately  upon  his 

arrival.     Done  at  Peronne,  this  9  July,  1641. 

DES  NOYERS. 
Vol.  g.  6,  283  MM. 

Examination  of  the  Secret  Correspondence  of  the  Cardinal 
de  Richelieu,  relative  to  the  trial  of  MM.  de  Cinq-Mars 
and  de  Thou. 

The  indefatigable  activity,  the  vivid  penetration,  the  in- 
genious perseverance  of  the  Cardinal  de  Richelieu  at  the 
close  of  his  life,  when  illness,  fatigue,  and  vexation  might 
well  have  deadened  his  rare  faculties,  are  not  alone  evi- 
denced in  the  conduct  of  this  affair.  It  is  curious  and  most 
painful  to  observe  the  subterrene  ways  through  which  he 
passed  to  arrive  at  his  end,  —  this  potent  miner,  this  worthy 
pioneer !  All  the  meannesses  to  which  political  laborers 
are  forced  to  stoop  would  render  their  imitators  less  arro- 

1  Montglat,  Fabert,  etc.,  Relation  de  Montresor,  t.  ii,  p.  520. 


232     NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS. 

gant,  did  they  consider  that  this  man  after  the  entire  ac- 
complishment of  his  projects  only  succeeded  in  hastening 
and  confirming  the  fall  of  the  absolute  monarchy  which  he 
thought  he  had  confirmed  forever. 

To  place  these  documents  properly  before  the  reader,  it 
is  necessary  to  omit  the  long  technicalities  of  the  proces- 
verbal,  the  dryness  and  confusion  of  which  have,  no  doubt, 
disgusted  all  those  who  have  looked  at  it.  But  it  is  desir- 
able to  extract  the  singular  and  vivid  facts  which  are 
distinguishable  in  the  chaos,  when  we  look  attentively 
at  it. 

As  soon  as  M.  de  Cinq-Mars  is  arrested,  and  the  Due 
d'Orleans  has  excused  himself  in  the  letter  we  have  cited 
in  the  course  of  this  work,1  the  first  anxiety  of  the  cardinal 
is  to  know  whether  M.  de  Bouillon  is  arrested.  In  this 
doubt,  and  fearing  the  return  of  Louis  XIII.  to  his  affec- 
tion for  Cinq-Mars,  he  stops  at  Tarascon,  and  thus  seeks 
to  satisfy  himself  that  his  influence  is  in  the  ascendant. 
Like  a  gladiator  preparing  for  battle,  he  essays  his  arms 
and  balances  his  club. 

Instructions  after  the  arrest  of  M.  le  Grand  to  MM.  de  Chavigny  and 
des  Noyers,  being  with  the  king,  to  learn,  among  other  things,  from 
his  Majesty  if  his  Eminence  shall  act,  as  heretofore,  as  he  shall 
think  Jit. 

If  M.  de  Bouillon  is  taken,  it  is  necessary  to  show  promptly  that  lie 
has  been  justly  arrested.  To  do  this,  it  must  be  found  out  who  of  the 
friends  of  Madame  have  taken  part  in  the  matter ;  and  in  case  the  said 
lady  will  not  afford  information,  you  must  devise  some  plan  by  which  it 
may  appear  that  you  have  a  knowledge  of  the  matter.  Tor  this  pur- 
pose all  the  prisoners  must  be  separated,  and  not  be  allowed  to  speak 
with  any  one.  By  this  means  you  may  make  one  believe  that  another 
has  confessed  all  he  knows,  and  thus  induce  each  to  confess,  or  at  least 
to  believe  the  matter  confessed  elsewhere. 

Cioniac  must  be  arrested.  He  is  said  to  have  secret  papers.  The 
casket  with  hair  and  love-tokens  must  be  taken  from  M.  de  Choisy. 

1  Vol.  ii.,  chap.  xxiv. 


NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS.      233 

It  must  be  represented  to  the  king  that  it  is  important  not  to  say  he 
has  burned  all  the  papers ;  and  in  fact  it  is  generally  believed  that  he 
has  not  done  so. 

If  M.  de  Bouillon  is  taken,  Italy  must  be  provided  with  a  general  of 
great  fidelity  for  several  pressing  reasons.  One  is  wanted  in  Guyenne, 
another  in  Roussillon,  it  being  doubtful  whether  M.  de  Tureune  will 
serve,  or  whether,  indeed,  he  ought  to  be  left  there  alone.  The  king 
can  see  to  this  if  he  pleases. 

We  see  the  snare  here  indicated.  M.  de  Cinq-Mars  was 
the  first  to  fall  into  it. 

The  answer  is  not  long  delayed.  M.  de  Bouillon  has 
been  arrested.  The  king  has  consented  to  tell  all  the  lies 
dictated  to  him ;  and  as  a  proof  of  his  obedience,  he 
writes  with  his  own  hand  the  following  letter :  — 

Letter  from  the  King  to  his  Eminence. 

I  am  always  happy  to  see  you.  I  am  much  better  since  yesterday  ; 
and  after  the  capture  of  M.  de  Bouillon,  which  is  a  great  stroke,  I 
hope  with  the  aid  of  God  that  all  will  go  well,  and  that  he  will  grant 
me  perfect  health.  It  is  what  I  pray  of  him  with  all  my  heart. 

Louis. 

With  this  gage  he  could  act.  He  menaced  Monsieur, 
and  answered  him  vaguely.  Gaston  again  supplicated. 
The  same  day  he  wrote  to  the  king,  to  Cardinal  Mazarin, 
to  M.  des  Noyers,  to  M.  de  Chavigny,  and  a  second  time  to 
the  cardinal.  Kernark  that  it  was  of  the  latter  he  had  at 
first  demanded  pardon,  the  17th  of  June,  before  supplicat- 
ing the  king  on  the  25th,  following  the  hierarchy  estab- 
lished by  the  cardinal.  He  asks  pardon  from  every  one, 
and  promises  a  full  confession. 

Hereupon,  the  cardinal  sets  his  foot  upon  the  king's 
brother,  and  crushes  him  by  the  cold  letter  in  which  he 
counsels  him  to  confess  all,  and  which  is  in  the  text  of  this 
book. 

Then  come  fresh  reports  from  the  faithful  agent  Cha- 
vigny, who  has  not  sufficiently  humble  terms  in  which  to 


234      NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS. 

address  the  cardinal,  whose  creature  he  incessantly  calls 
himself.  Chavigny  laughs  at  Monsieur  and  the  cholera- 
morbus  (already  known,  as  we  see)  which  had  seized  the 
agent  of  this  prince  from  the  fear  of  being  arrested. 

He  counsels  Gaston  to  withdraw  from  France.  We  see 
that  the  king  does  not  venture  to  answer  until  the  cardinal 
has  corrected  the  letter  he  is  to  write. 

M.  de  Chavigny  to  his  Eminence. 

The  king  spoke  yesterday  to  M.  de  la  Riviere  as  well  and  as  firmly 
as  one  could  wish.  I  have  made  him  write  down  and  sign  all  he  said 
to  him  on  the  part  of  Monsieur,  as  your  Eminence  will  see  by  the  copy 
I  send  you ;  and  when  he  raised  some  difficulties  in  obeying  the  com- 
mands of  his  Majesty,  his  Majesty  spoke  to  him  as  a  master,  and  he  was 
in  such  fear  of  being  arrested  that  he  was  seized  nearly  with  a  faint- 
ing fit,  and  then  with  a  species  of  cholera-morbus,  of  which  he  was 
only  cured  by  reassuring  his  mind.  The  king  was  delighted  that  Mon- 
seigneur  had  no  intention  of  seeing  Monsieur.  In  speaking  to  M. 
de  la  Riviere,  I  made  him  fall  insensibly  into  the  idea  of  proposing  to 
Monsieur  himself  to  confess  all  betimes  in  a  letter  to  the  king,  so 
that  he  may,  after  having  seen  his  Majesty,  go  for  a  while  out  of  the 
kingdom  with  his  Majesty's  good  favor  and  that  of  your  Eminence. 

He  told  me  that  he  would  make  this  proposition  to  Mouseigneur, 
and  that  he  would  get  his  guarantee  for  the  safety  of  Monsieur,  if  he 
would  confess  everything  in  writing  and  come  to  the  king,  and  after- 
wards quit  France. 

In  this  case  your  Eminence  will  be  pleased  to  inform  your  creature  if 
Venice  would  not  be  the  best  place  to  which  Monsieur  could  go,  and 
what  sum  you  think  he  should  have  allowed  him  annually. 

I  send  Monseigneur  the  king's  reply,  to  be  put  at  the  foot  of  La 
Riviere's  declaration,  that  it  may  be  corrected  as  it  shall  please  you,  and 
then  be  placed  in  his  hands  when  he  shall  pass. 

CHAVIGNY. 

MONTFEIN,  the  last  June,  1642. 

The  cardinal  permits  Monsieur  to  leave  the  kingdom  and 
to  go  to  Venice,  and  fixes  the  pension  he  shall  have  to  make 
him  wiser. 


NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS.      235 

Note  to  MM.  de  Chavigny  and  des  Noyers. 

I  have  no  difficulty,  if  the  king  thinks  fit,  in  giving  my  word  to 
.M.  de  la  Riviere  that  if  Monsieur  will  declare  to  the  king  all  that  he 
knows  in  writing,  without  reservations,  and  shall  come  to  see  his 
Majesty  before  leaving  the  kingdom,  according  to  the  proposition  which 
the  said  Sieur  de  la  Riviere  made  to  us,  his  Majesty  will  let  him  depart 
freely,  relieve  him  well,  if  he  leave  with  the  king's  consent.  Venice  is 
a  suitable  residence,  and  in  that  case  he  will  require  the  king's  permis- 
sion to  set  forth,  —  not  to  return  to  France  until  it  shall  please  the  king 
to  permit  and  order  it. 

As  to  money,  I  think  that  he  ought  to  be  contented  with  what  the 
King  of  Spain  was  to  have  given  him ;  namely,  ten  thousand  crowns 
a  month.  To  give  him  more,  were  to  give  him  the  means  of  doing  ill ; 
and  it  being  impossible  for  the  king  to  consent  that  he  should  take  with 
him  the  evil  spirits  who  have  misled  him,  he  needs  no  more  for  himself 
and  well-intentioned  people.  However,  if  we  must  go  so  far  as  four 
hundred  thousand  livres,  I  think  we  must  not  be  stopped  by  so  small  a 
difference.  I  am  entirely  the  friend  of  those  who  love  me  as  you  do. 

THE  CARDINAL  DE  RICHELIEU. 
TARASCON,  this  last  June,  1042. 

Either  M.  de  la  Riviere  comes  with  a  mere  mouth-complirnent  and  a 
confession  of  a  disguised  fault,  or  charged  to  discover  a  part  of  what 
has  been  done.  If  the  former,  the  king  ought  to  believe  or  feign  to  be- 
lieve what  he  says,  and  answer  that  he  readily  pardons  Monsieur,  and 
that  M.  de  la  Riviere  may  tell  him  all  he  has  upon  his  conscience  with- 
out being  troubled  about  it. 

If  the  latter,  he  should  still  feign  to  believe  that  what  he  says  is  all 
there  is  to  say,  and  answer,  "  What  you  have  just  confessed  surprises 
me,  yet  does  not  surprise  me. 

"  It  surprises  me  because  I  did  not  expect  this  new  proof  of  want  of 
affection  in  my  brother.  It  does  not  surprise  me,  because  M.  le  Grand, 
now  he  is  taken,  inquires  very  anxiously  whether  he  is  not  charged 
with  an  understanding  with  Monsieur. 

"  M.  de  la  Riviere,  I  will  speak  to  you  frankly.  Those  who  have 
given  my  brother  these  evil  counsels  must  expect  nothing  from  me  but 
the  rigor  of  justice.  As  to  my  brother,  if  he  discovers  to  me,  without 
reservation,  all  he  has  done,  he  will  find  the  effects  of  my  goodness,  as 
he  has  already  done  various  times  already." 


236      NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS. 

Whatever  entreaties  La  Riviere  may  employ  to  obtain  a  promise  of 
general  pardon,  without  obligation  of  confessing  all  that  has  passed, 
the  king  shall  adhere  to  his  last  reply,  telling  him  that  he  himself  could 
hardly  desire  to  counsel  him  to  do  more  than  God,  who  requires  a  true 
repentance  and  unfeigned  gratitude  before  he  pardons  an  offence  ;  that 
he  ought  to  be  satisfied  with  the  assurance  that  Monsieur  will  find  the 
effects  of  his  goodness,  if  he  behaves  towards  his  Majesty  as  he  ought 
to  do,  —  namely,  as  is  above  set  forth. 

We  see  here  that  the  parts  are  written  out  word  for 
word,  and  that  the  king  is  neither  to  add  nor  take  anything 
from  them.  The  agent  of  Monsieur  (La  Kiviere)  hastens 
to  him,  and  the  cardinal  sends  him  to  the  king  to  dictate 
beforehand  his  reply.  With  what  pliancy  every  personage 
obeys  the  director  of  this  sanguinary  play  ! 


The  political  observers  do  not  sleep.  They  excite  Louis 
XIII.  by  all  possible  means  against  the  scapegoat  upon 
whom  every  sin  is  to  fall.  The  prisoner  is  treated  with 
redoubled  rigor. 

Des  Noyers  writes  on  the  30th  of  June,  1642,  to  the 
cardinal :  — 

"  The  king  has  told  me  that  he  thinks  M.  le  Grand  capable  of  turn- 
ing Huguenot.  I  added  that  he  would  have  turned  Turk,  if  by  that 
means  he  could  reign  and  deprive  his  Majesty  of  what  God  had  so  legit- 
imately given  him.  Upon  which  the  king  said  to  me,  '  I  believe  it.' 

"  His  Majesty  told  me  this  morning  that  Treville  had  conversed  with 
M.  le  Marquis  on  the  arrival  of  M.  le  Grand  at  Montpellier,  and  that 
on  entering  the  citadel  he  said,  '  Ah  !  must  I  then  die  at  twenty-two  ? 
Thus  't  is  to  conspire  against  one's  country  so  early,'  which  he  received 
very  well." 

M.  des  Noyers  to  his  Eminence. 

PARIS,  July  1. 

His  Majesty  is  more  than  ever  irritated  against  M.  le  Grand,  for  he 
has  discovered  that  during  his  illness  this  wretch  whom  Monsieur  the 
first  president  truly  calls  le  perfide  public,  had  said,  speaking  of  the 
king,  "  He  will  still  linger  on." 


NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS.      237 

Nothing  is  omitted  that  can  irritate  Louis  XIII.,  though 
it  is  difficult  to  appreciate  the  point  of  the  first  president's 
phrase. 

The  same  man  (Des  Noyers)  again  writes,  on  the  1st  of 
July,  1642,  from  Pierrelate:  "His  Majesty  continues  to 
give  the  greatest  demonstrations  of  love  for  Monseigneur, 
and  of  an  equal  hatred  to  this  wretched  perfide  public." 

Thus  the  bulletin  of  the  royal  anger  is  sent  to  the  car- 
dinal every  hour,  and  care  is  taken  that  the  fever  shall  not 
abate.  The  parents  of  the  two  young  men  wish  to  petition ; 
they  are  prevented.  M.  de  Cuavigny  writes,  the  3d  July, 
1642 :  "  The  Abbe  d'Effiat  and  the  Abbe  de  Thou  came  to 
see  the  king,  as  we  have  been  assured.  His  Majesty 
thought  proper  to  send  to  them  and  command  them  to 
withdraw." 


The  correspondence  is  urgent ;  the  next  day  (July  4, 
1642),  the  cardinal  writes  from  Tarascon  :  — 

"  The  most  obscure  enigmas  begin  to  be  explained,  —  le  perfide  public 
confessing,  in  the  place  where  he  is,  that  he  had  ill  designs  against  the 
person  of  M.  le  Cardinal,  but  none  to  which  the  king  had  not  given  his 
consent ;  the  mischief  is  that  the  liberty  lie  has  hitherto  enjoyed,  of 
walking  twice  a  day,  has  occasioned  this  statement  to  be  much  spread 
in  the  province,  which  may  produce  very  ill  effects." 

A  mortal  fear  agitated  the  cardinal  lest  it  should  be  dis- 
covered that  the  king  had  been  concerned  in  the  conspiracy ; 
he  makes  the  imprisonment  still  more  strict.  He  adds  : 

"  Seyton,  the  lieutenant  of  the  Scottish  guards,  sixty-six  years  of 
age,  allowed  M.  le  Grand  to  walk  twice  a  day.  He  did  so  up  to  within 
these  three  days,  which  gives  me  reason  to  suppose  that  the  former 
orders  have  been  lost. 

"M.  de  Bouillon  required  only  a  doctor  and  two  valets-de-chambre ; 
le  perfide  public  has  six  attendants,  who  must  be  reduced.  Otherwise, 
it  is  impossible  to  prevent  his  making  known  whatever  he  pleases  ;  no 
prince  ever  had  more. 


238      NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS. 

"  You  will  adroitly  introduce  this  subject,  without  mentioning  my  name 
in  any  way." 

Impatiently  awaiting  a  good  commissioner,  he  says  :  — 

"  I  expect  M.  de  Chaze,  whom  we  will  try  with  M.  de  Thou.  Make 
him  hasten  by  the  Rhone,  for  time  presses,  and  it  is  necessary  I  should 
be  here  to  assist  him  in  his  interrogations,  which  I  will  give  him  ready 
arranged." 

As  it  is  necessary  to  envenom  the  wound  in  the  royal 
heart,  he  does  not  forget  a  circumstance  which  may  have 
this  effect. 

"  It  were  well  that  the  faithful  Marquis  de  Mortemar  tell  the  king 
how  le  perfide  public  said  that  Fontrailles  had  jested  upon  his  illness ; 
namely,  '  He  is  not  yet  bad  enough.' 

"  This  will  tend  to  prove  that  the  perfide  and  his  principal  confidants 
were  ill  intentioned  against  the  king." 


We  see  that  no  light  word  or  youthful  thoughtlessness, 
real  or  supposed,  is  omitted  by  political  cuiming.  Cha- 
vigny  immediately  answers  in  the  same  spirit. 

"  The  faithful  marquis  has  not  yet  had  an  opportunity  of  saying  what 
M.  le  Cardinal  has  directed  ;  it  will  be  done  to-morrow.  We  shall  see 
what  the  king  will  say." 

Then  the  next  day,  the  same  Chavigny  writes  in  all 
haste  :  — 

"  Mortemar  has  told  the  king  what  M.  le  Grand  said.  The  king  did 
not  fail,  immediately  upon  hearing  it,  to  repeat  it  to  M.  de  Chavigny. 
[The  same  who  thus  sneers  at  Louis  XIII.  for  his  docility  !  ]  And 
I  think  he  is  the  same  with  M.  des  Noyers. 

"  The  king  expressly  commanded  me  to  mention  it  to  your  Eminence, 
and  to  say  to  you  that  he  believes  M.  le  Grand  quite  detestable  enough 
to  have  entertained  this  horrible  thought,  and  that  he  remembers  he 
had  at  Lyons  more  than  fifty  gentlemen  dependent  on  him. 

"  Nothing  has  been  omitted  to  keep  his  Majesty  in  a  good  humor. 
The  king  has  several  times  repeated  that  M.  le  Grand  is  the  greatest 
liar  in  the  world.  Thus  we  may  hope  that  friendship  is  tolerably  worn 
out  in  the  heart  of  Louis  XIII." 


NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS.      239 

The  6th  of  January,  1642  (mark  this  rapidity),  the  two 
creatures  of  the  cardinal-due,  Chavigny  and  Des  Noyers, 
inform  him  of  the  result  of  their  insinuations. 

"  We  humbly  entreat  Moiiseigneur  to  tranquillize  his  mind,  and  to 
believe  that  he  was  never  so  powerful  with  the  king  as  he  is  now ;  that 
his  presence  will  effect  all  he  wishes." 

That  same  day  the  cardinal-due  writes  very  humbly  to 
the  king,  in  the  tone  of  an  innocent  victim  and  priest, 
whom  the  king  is  defending. 

His  Eminence  to  the  King. 

"  I  have  learned,"  says  he,  "  the  new  discovery  which  the  king  has 
been  pleased  to  make  of  the  evil  design  M.  le  Grand  had  against  me,  — 
against  a  cardinal  who  for  twenty-five  years  has,  by  the  permission  of 
God,  successfully  served  his  master ;  the  greater  the  malice  of  this 
wretch,  the  more  the  goodness  of  your  Majesty  is  apparent. 

"This  Seventh  July,  1642." 

And  on  the  7th,  he  sends  for  M.  de  Thou  into  his  cham- 
ber, bringing  him  from  the  prison  of  Tarascon.  I  have 
before  me  this  curious  interrogatory,  and  give  it  here,  as  it 
has  been  preserved,  word  for  word.  It  is  not  superfluous 
to  point  out  the  tone  of  exquisite  politeness  of  these  two 
personages,  neither  of  whom  forgets  the  rank  and  char- 
acter of  the  other,  and  who  seem  to  have  constantly  in 
their  minds  the  old  adage:  "One  gentleman  is  as  good 
as  another." 

Interrogatory  and  replies  of  M.  de  Thou  to  Monseigneur  the  Cardinal- 
Due,  when  sent  for  from  the  prison  of  the  chateau  of  Tarascon. 
(Journal  de  M.  le  Cardinal  de  Richelieu,  which  he  made  during  the 
great  storm  in  the  year  1642,  and  taken  from  the  memoirs  he  wrote 
with  his  own  hand.  MDC.XLVIII. 

M.  LE  CARDINAL.  Monsieur,  I  entreat  you  to  excuse  my  having 
given  you  the  trouble  to  come  here. 

M.  DE  THOU.     Monseigneur,  it  is  an  honor  and  a  pleasure. 


240      NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS. 

After  which  the  cardinal  made  him  sit  down  on  a  chair 
at  his  bedside. 

M.  LE  CARDINAL.  Monsieur,  I  entreat  you  to  tell  me  the  origin  of 
these  things  that  have  just  taken  place. 

M.  DE  THOU.  Monseigneur,  no  oue  can  know  it  better  than  your 
Eminence. 

M.  LE  CARDINAL.  I  have  no  correspondence  with  Spain  which 
might  inform  me. 

M.  DE  THOU.  The  king  having  ordered  these  things,  Monseigneur, 
it  cannot  have  been  without  your  being  made  acquainted  with  it. 

M.  LE  CARDINAL.     Did  you  wnte  to  Rome  and  Spain  ? 

M.  DE  THOU.     Yes,  Monseigneur,  by  the  king's  order. 

M.  LE  CARDINAL.    Are  you,  then,  secretary  of  State  ? 

M.  DE  THOU.  No,  Monseigneur ;  but  the  king  having  ordered  me, 
I  could  do  no  otherwise  than  obey. 

M.  LE  CARDINAL.     Have  you  any  power  ? 

M.  DE  THOU.  Yes,  Monseigneur,  the  king's  word,  and  an  order 
in  writing. 

M.  LE  CARDINAL.  Yet  M.  de  Cinq-Mars  has  not  said  anything 
about  it. 

M.  DE  THOU.  He  was  wrong  then,  Monseigneur,  for  he  received 
the  order  as  well  as  I. 

M.  LE  CARDINAL.     Where  are  these  orders  ? 

M.  DE  THOU.  They  are  in  good  hands,  to  be  produced  when  they 
are  needed. 

But  this  is  what  it  is  desirable  to  avoid.  The  cardinal 
does  not  wish  to  be  assured  thus  that  the  king  has  given 
orders  against  him.  He  sends  to  Paris  for  commissioners, 
one  especially  whom  he  indicates,  M.  de  Lamon,  to  assist 
M.  de  Chaze  in  the  fresh  interrogatories  applied  to  this 
same  De  Thou,  so  imposing,  so  firm,  so  grave,  so  honorable, 
and  so  formidable  by  his  virtue. 

While  the  young  magistrate  is  replying  thus,  Gaston 
d' Orleans,  Monsieur,  the  king's  brother,  sends  his  confes- 
sion, and  throwing  himself  on  his  knees  in  these  terms : 
"I,  Gaston,  son  of  France,  the  only  brother  of  the  king, 
being  touched  by  true  repentance  for  having  again  failed  in 


NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS.      241 

the  fidelity  I  owe  to  Mouseigneur  the  King,  and  desiring  to 
render  myself  worthy  of  grace  and  pardon,  —  I  sincerely 
confess  everything  of  which  I  ani  guilty." 

Then  follow  the  accusations  against  M.  le  Grand,  upon 
whom  he  very  handsomely  throws  the  whole  affair. 

Then  a  second  confession  accompanies  the  first,  relating 
to  the  other  offence. 

Monsieur  the  King's  brother  to  his  Eminence. 

D'AiGUEPERCE,  July  7,  1642. 

Gaston,  etc.  Unable  to  express  sufficiently  to  my  cousin,  the  Car- 
dinal de  Richelieu,  ray  extreme  grief  at  having  entered  into  relations 
and  correspondence  with  his  enemies,  I  protest  before  God,  and  entreat 
M.  le  Cardinal  to  believe,  that  I  never  had  any  knowledge  of  anything 
that  might  affect  your  person,  and  that  were  I  to  die  for  it  I  would 
never  have  lent  my  ear  or  my  heart  to  tlie  slightest  proposition  against 
you,  etc. 

The  politeness  of  terror  can  assuredly  go  no  farther  or 
lower. 

He  sends  his  orders  what  Monsieur  is  to  say  if  he  wishes 
to  be  allowed  to  remain  in  the  kingdom  and  to  have  where- 
with to  subsist. 

Monsieur  and  M.  de  Cinq-Mars  shall  be  confronted  with 
each  other. 

Instructions  of  his  Eminence. 

When  M.  le  Grand  shall  be  brought  to  the  place  in  which  Monsieur 
is,  Monsieur  must  say  to  him,  — 

"  M.  le  Grand,  although  our  rank  is  different,  we  are  in  the  same 
difficulty,  and  we  must  have  recourse  to  the  same  remedy.  I  confess 
our  fault,  and  entreat  the  king  to  pardon  it." 

Either  M.  le  Grand  will  take  the  same  step,  and  agree  with  what 
Monsieur  has  said,  or  he  will  play  the  innocent,  in  which  case  Monsieur 
will  say,  — 

"  You  spoke  to  me  in  such  a  place.  You  told  me  so  and  so.  You 
came  to  St.  Germain  to  me  in  the  stables  with  M.  de  Bouillon,  or  who- 
VOL.  i.  — 16 


242      NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS. 

ever  else  it  may  Lave  been."  Then  Monsieur  will  relate  the  rest  of  the 
story. 

He  will  do  the  same  when  M.  de  Bouillon  shall  be  brought  on. 

He  will  content  himself  with  the  promise  of  remaining  in  the  king- 
dom, without  pretending  to  any  charge  or  office. 

I  say  this,  after  having  well  considered  the  affair,  which  may  be  the 
most  important  of  this  nature  that  has  ever  happened  in  this  kingdom. 

But  Monsieur  raises  great  difficulties  in  the  way  of  con- 
fronting the  accused.  He  is  afraid  of  wanting  assurance 
before  them.  The  king  cannot  venture  to  compel  his 
brother  to  appear ;  but  it  is  necessary  to  find  a  subterfuge. 
The  Chancellor  Seguier  devises  one  and  despatches  it. 

"  I  have  proposed  to  the  king  to  send  M.  Talon,  councillor  of  State 
and  solicitor-general,  Le  Bret,  and  Du  Bignou,  who  are  all  learned  in 
criminal  matters,  to  confer  with  me  upon  all  the  propositions  I  shall 
make  to  him. 

"  Their  opinion  is  that  we  can  dispense  Monsieur  from  being  present 
at  the  reading  of  his  declaration  to  the  accused. 

"  This  opinion  is  supported  by  precedents  and  reasons.  As  to  prece- 
dents, we  have  the  trial  of  La  Mole  and  Coconuas,  who  were  accused  of 
high  treason.  In  that  trial  the  declarations  of  the  King  of  Navarre, 
and  of  the  Due  d'Alenpon,  were  received  and  read  to  the  accused, 
without  confrontation,  although  the  prisoners  demanded  it. 

"  The  deposition  of  a  witness  with  infallible  presumptions  serves  as 
proof  and  conviction  against  a  person  accused  of  high  treason,  wliich  is 
not  the  case  with  other  crimes." 


We  see  that  the  chancellor  goes  to  work  here  with  good 
will. 

Then  follows  the  opinion  given  by  Jacques  Talon  and 
Hierosme  Bignon  and  Omer  Talon,  deciding  "  that  no  son 
of  France  has  been  heard  in  any  trial,  and  that  the  declara- 
tion of  such  suffices  for  proof  without  confrontation." 

The  chancellor  receives  Monsieur's  declaration  in  the 
company  of  the  judges,  the  Sieurs  de  Laubardemont,  Marca, 


NOTES'  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS.      243 

de  Paris,  Champigni,  Miraumesnil,  de  Chaze,  and  de  Seve, 
in  which  the  Due  d'Orleans  confesses  to  have  given  two 
signed  blanks  to  Fontrailles  to  treat  with  the  King  of  Spain, 
at  the  instigation  of  M.  le  Grand,  whom  lie  charges  also 
with  having  seduced  M.  de  Bouillon. 

According  to  these  opinions,  the  cardinal  is  armed  on 
every  side  and  sure  of  success.  He  may  go.  He  arrives 
at  Paris ;  and  while  at  Lyons  they  are  trying  Cinq-Mars 
and  De  Thou,  he  places  his  hand  upon  the  king,  and  par- 
dons Monsieur  on  condition  of  his  political  nullity,  and  M. 
de  Bouillon  in  exchange  for  his  fortress  of  Sedan. 

The  indictment  is  very  curious,  but  too  extensive  to  be 
inserted  here.  It  is  found  at  the  end  of  the  interrogations. 
The  reporter  there  accuses  M.  de  Cinq-Mars,  after  having 
passed  lightly  over  Monsieur  and  the  Due  de  Bouillon. 

"  As  to  M.  le  Grand,  he  is  accused  not  only  of  being  an  accomplice 
in  tin's  conspiracy,  but  also  of  being  its  author  and  promoter. 

"  M.  le  Grand  poisons  the  mind  of  Monsieur  by  imaginary  fears  in- 
vented by  himself.  That  is  a  crime. 

"To  relieve  him  from  his  terrors,  he  persuades  him  to  make  a  party 
in  the  State.  Here  are  two  crimes. 

"  He  persuades  him  to  combine  with  Spain.     This  is  a  third. 

"  He  persuades  him  to  destroy  M.  le  Cardinal,  and  drive  him  from  af- 
fairs. This  is  a  fourth. 

"  He  persuades  him  to  make  war  with  France  during  the  siege  of 
Perpignan,  in  order  to  interrupt  the  happiness  of  this  State.  This  is  a 
fifth. 

"  He  himself  draws  up  the  treaty  of  Spain.     This  is  a  sixth. 

"  He  brings  Fontrailles  to  Monsieur  to  be  sent  about  the  treaty,  and 
to  Monsieur,  the  Comte  d'Aubigny.  These  results  may  be  looked  upon 
as  a  seventh  crime,  or  at  least  the  accomplishment  of  all  the  rest. 

"  All  of  them  are  crimes  of  high  treason,  he  who  attacks  the  persons 
of  the  king's  ministers  being  reputed  by  the  ancient  laws  and  consti- 
tutions of  the  emperors  equally  guilty  with  those  who  attack  the  per- 
sons of  the  kings  themselves. 

"  A  minister  serves  his  prince  and  the  State.  A  man  deprives  the 
prince  and  the  State  of  him.  This  is  the  same  as  if  they  were  to  de- 
prive the  f.rst  of  an  arm,  and  the  second  of  a  part  of  its  power." 


244      NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS. 

I  refer  these  arguments  to  the  reflections  of  jurisconsults. 
They  may  think,  perhaps,  that  there  might  have  been  some- 
thing to  say  in  reply  to  them,  were  it  considered  possible 
to  answer  these  absurdities  of  uncontrolled  power.  The 
grand  fact  of  the  Spanish  treaty  sufficed ;  and  I  only  trans- 
cribe what  the  reporter  adds,  to  show  the  animosity  which 
was  prescribed  him  towards  the  enemy,  the  rival  for  favor 
of  the  first  minister.1 

If  M.  de  Cinq-Mars  had  been  less  ardent,  less  haughty, 
and  more  able,  he  ought  not  to  have  placed  himself  in  the 
wrong  by  a  treaty  with  foreigners.  He  might  have  over- 
thrown the  old  minister  at  less  expense,  and  without  at- 
taching to  his  brow  the  label,  ally  of  the  foreigner,  always 
detested  by  monarchical  or  republican  nations,  alike  that 
of  the  Constable  de  Bourbon  and  of  Coriolanus.  But  he 
was  twenty-two  years  old,  and  his  head  was  not  entirely 
applied  to  great  affairs.  He  acted  hastily,  prompted  by 
passion,  against  a  man  of  experience,  who  knew  how  to 
wait  coldly  for  circumstances  which  would  place  his  en- 
emy in  a  false  position. 

Upon  the  secret  interrogatory. 
(Extracted  from  the  Registers.) 

"  M.  de  Cinq- Mars  avowed  to  M.  le  Chancelier  that  the  strongest 
passion  which  had  led  him  to  act  as  he  did  was  the  desire  to  drive 
M.  le  Cardinal  from  State  affairs,  against  whom  he  had  an  aversion 
which  he  could  neither  overcome  nor  moderate. 

"  He  said  that  six  things  had  given  him  this  aversion  :  — 
"  1.   The  first,  that  after  the  siege  of  Arras,  at  the  close  of  which  he 
had  been  present,  M.  le  Cardinal  had  spoken  of  him  as  of  a  person  who 
had  not  much  courage. 

1  There  are  few  words  as  involuntarily  and  crnelly  comical  as  those 
which  he  so  often  repeats  :  "  He  persuaded  him  to,"  etc.  Monsieur  is  thus 
represented  as  a  schoolboy  under  the  age  of  reason  and  not  responsible, 
whom  a  tutor  leads  in  some  trifling  errors.  Preceptor  of  twenty-two  I 
pupil  of  thirty-four .'  cruel  witticism  ! 


NOTES  AND  HISTORICAL  DOCUMENTS.      245 

"  2.  That  after  the  alliance  of  M.  le  Marquis  de  Sourdis  and  his 
brother,  the  cardinal  had  said  that  M.  de  Sourdis  had  done  honor  to 
his  family. 

"  3.  That  having  desired  to  be  created  duke  and  peer,  M.  le  Cardi- 
nal had  persuaded  the  king  from  it. 

"  4.  That  he  had  felt  himself  obliged  to  protect  M.  1'Archeveque  de 
Bordeaux,  whom  he  thought  they  desired  to  ruin. 

"5.  That,  speaking  to  him  of  the  Princesse  Marie,  he  said  that  his 
mother  wished  to  marry  him  to  her.  His  Eminence  said  that  his  mother, 
Madame  d'Effiat,  was  mad,  and  that  if  the  Princesse  Marie  entertained 
the  idea,  she  was  more  mad  still;  that  having  been  proposed  as  the 
wife  of  Monsieur,  he  (Cinq-Mars)  would  be  vain  and  presumptuous  to 
pretend  to  her ;  that  it  would  be  ridiculous. 

"  6.  That  the  cardinal  had  objected  to  the  king  admitting  him  to  the 
council,  and  had  him  expelled  from  it." 


END   OF   VQL.    I. 


Al 

y 


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